Shaking like a Leaf
An ill-wind blew in across the plains.
It smelled of… cheese. Not particularly stinky cheese, but a wind smelling largely of cheese, even mild-smelling cheese, is not a refreshing breeze. It makes your clothes feel like they’re congealing on your body and your hair lies down flat, dead, on your head. He supposed it was a lucky thing he had gotten in the habit of shaving his head.
But on days like this, when he was leaning slightly into a cheese-flavored wind, he could still feel his hair. The doctors called it “phantom hair,” in which you feel the hair that used to be there but is no longer. It was odd for doctors he was consulting on his bum knee to be commenting on his hair, but he just let it go. And now he was glad he had, because he knew why it felt as if he had a dead squirrel on his head, despite the fact that his shaved bald pate was giving off a dull yellow glow, the sunlight diffused in the palpable cheese particles blowing around.
This was going to be an odd day.
disclaimer
I have no idea what that was about. Sometimes it’s all about the deadlines. Or the deadlines, once they’ve past, and are now threatening to stack up into the next week.
So enjoy.
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