Serial Library passage Apr. 22

22 Apr

When I listen to a story, I am listening for the decisions you men are making, Pillow told the men. She was surrounded by a circle of men who were love sick over her. They didn’t know that Pillow loved Cloud. There were fortunes to be told. Pillow stood at a certain angle and the men were well aware of their good fortune. The light behind Pillow made her soul seem diaphanous. The men were dabblers. They worked in the night and then dabbled all day. They were water cooler lackeys. They lacked what real men needed, which was to understand the ways of a woman. Pillow was a woman, and they were looking for clues. But they were looking at the wrong woman. Pillow didn’t mind. She remained where she was, silent, like a pillar of soft malleable soapstone in the midst of a circle of men she could turn to granite with a simple shift of her shoulder. She understood that, whatever else she did with the days remaining in her life, for this day, at least, she was a deeply diaphanous moment in the fabric of time.


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