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Monthly Archives: March 2007

South

South looks at the check and puts it away. Then he gets it back out and counts the zeroes. There aren’t that many. There are enough.

“There aren’t that many,” says Seven over his shoulder, amused.

“Fewer than yours,” says South.

Seven shrugs. “You get more episodes. Who picks up his own checks? Get Sejal to send them to your agent, you won’t be disappointed when you see what’s left.”

“I should probably get one of those.”

Seven does an actual double take. “Jesus. Take half of that and hire somebody to answer your–”

South’s phone starts ringing, right on cue.

Proserpina

Proserpina’s father dies attempting to install one of the new electrical light bulbs; the handyman whispers to her, over a shared cigarette, that he didn’t dance and scream the way people who die of electrocution are said to do. He opened his eyes very wide, arched his back and stood still.

After the funeral she goes to the basement and hits six boards until she opens up all the old scars on her right hand, until her wrist shoots red lines up to her shoulder. She wants to switch to her left hand, but she can’t make it form a fist.