Excerpt: Either Way, What Ever I’ll Do, I’ll Be Thinking You (Working Title)

The record was spinning it’s ever going spin, and the songs were coming out of the speakers, scratchy and real and alive. I was laying on the floor for no reason other than that I wanted to. You were across the room, on the bed, silent. I was silent, too, because you were silent. I wished that I could say that I wished you well, but I didn’t, and I didn’t want to lie to you again. I had other things I wanted to say to you, true things, and they hurt like a stomach ache or something. They made it so that I was trapped in a weird kind of limbo, and all that there was was the stomach ache and you and the record spinning, spinning, spinning it’s everlasting spin, ejecting the sounds that we both knew so well, the sounds that we loved like ourselves.

This is a bad start. You won’t ever read this, first of all. Other people will read this, and it won’t be you. I shouldn’t address it to you. I won’t from here on out. I should start at the beginning, too, because it doesn’t start with the record running it’s rotation at 33 1/3 revolutions. That’s were it ends, more or less. At least, that’s where it ends for now, between you and me. But I’m not addressing this to you. Not anymore. Now, I’m addressing this to the reader. Hello, reader. Welcome. Come on in. I’ll try not to alienate you from my story any longer. Hello, reader. Welcome. Come on in.