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To Sit In Silence

Marianne often wondered what fog had ever done for anyone. She knew, of course, that it was only evaporation working overtime, trying to lift a burden much too heavy to bear in one sitting. But she often imagined it was nature's only recourse for privacy, her way of hiding her blemishes and mistakes, at least until they're well covered and out of sight. "Even nature knows shame," she would think to herself, taking comfort in its company. And that's when it always managed to slip back into her consciousness, the mistake she'd made some sixty years before. She sat in silence and remembered how he'd charmed her with a well pressed uniform and a bouquet of wild flowers, well selected and color coordinated; he had brought the elusive outside world, one attractive to a simple farm girl. "I'd like to show you something," he had said, "it's a surprise." And in the barn, he charmed her with a surprise plowing in an untouched field, allowing his seed to take root.

She had closed her eyes during the procedure; her hands gripped the sheets of the bed. She recalled the doctor's voice, condescending and dismissive, telling her "all is well," and it would be "only a few minutes more." And his blunt metal object, so cool between her thighs, was bent and reconfigured to fix the problem, leaving a physical blemish even a dense fog could never hide.

Story by:

P. Keith Boran

pkboran@olemiss.edu

submitted at 10:54pm

26 July 2011