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dirt fc This writing was accepted for publication
in the 84 page perfect-bound issue...
Down in the Dirt magazine (v080)
(the March 2010 Issue)




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In My Hands

John T. Hitchner

        All I wanted was to be left alone. No single reason...
    Look, I was between relationships. I felt like putting my fist through a wall, or punching out the first guy I met on the street just to watch the bleeding. Better yet, if I had a gun, I’d shoot out a couple windows just to watch the glass shatter...just to hear the screaming. I’d laugh like hell. I wanted to, but...
    The JD on the rocks tasted like smooth pebbles and went down like liquid cash. I thought about tomorrow. I’d sleep in, go to work late...Maybe not go in at all. What the hell...See if they’d call. Would I answer? Hell no. What was the purpose? Keep your head down, do the job? For what? There is no purpose, not to anything. Things just happen, you have no control over them. Get used to it, for God’s sake.
    Then the phone rang. I had a feeling it would be her, the last one I broke up with. I was right.
    “How are you?” she asked. “Are you okay?”
    I hate that. Hate it!
Are you okay? Okay? How are you? What the hell could you do if I wasn’t? You have no idea...

    “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” I said.
    “I was wondering, that’s all.”
    I waited. What other profundities would she come up with?
    “Do you want to come over?” she asked.
“I’ll make us dinner.”
    I pictured the way her face would look in my hands, the way her eyes would close and the way she’d smile when I’d lay her across the bed. I’d tell her to turn over and keep her eyes closed. “Keep your arms at your side,” I’d say when I got up to close the curtains, the only light into the room the mask of light from the hallway.
    It wouldn’t take long, maybe longer than shooting out a couple windows, but not very long.
    “I’ll be over in a few minutes,” I told her, and finished the JD on the rocks and then poured another.
    Not very long at all.



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