Scott Garner, 27 y/o

Age: 27
Occupation: Tax-man
Status: Married
A Clear Memory: His wedding, making her breakfast.

He heard his radio far back, somewhere inside the walls.
But it was right there, infront of him.
Sitting indian-style on the floor with his friend from
way back, he hadn't seen her in years.

He knew the rules, of which there were none.
Without his notes, this just WASN'T.

But she looked at the radio and told him:
"Do you really think this is about you?".
A song was playing at the nightstand in his bedroom,
and here, on this auditoriumesque stage.
He heard the crackles of fire and he said,
"I don't think of it that way".

Her dress was more of a halloween costume, with her torso wrapped
in black plastic garbage bags, than a dress. Pity, he thought.
He asked, "So how have you been?". She smiled.

The ceiling was beginning to disolve,
he wanted to know before he left.
Sarah, the long lost postcard.

But he couldn't hear her anymore, because of that song.

Words that bent his arms backward against the world.