Fiction by Robert Denby: "OK", conclusion
Photo by Beyzaa Yurtkuran Seven It's a little after one in the afternoon. I lay awake for most of the night watching TCM (Bringing Up Baby and Charade. It's Cary Grant day, apparently.) I finally passed out around six, but it wasn't restful. One of those sleeps where details or people or ridiculous events keep running through your head again and again, but you aren't out deeply enough for it to really qualify as dreaming. The first time I recall looking at the clock this morning it was 11:19, but I'm still lying in bed. My curtains are closed, but I can tell that it's probably nice out; the sun's bright. I'm supposed to be meeting Veronica in three hours, but I don't know. I mean, it's great and all, but of course I have to meet somebody interesting now. Not when I'm dicking around in a Borders' back home or when I'm grocery shopping, but right when I pull a gun, kick down a door, and scare a kid so much that he wets himself. Par...
