“I talk. I mean, I speak … but she doesn’t hear me,” a tall man in Newbreak told his bearded friend, who was writing something to himself and didn’t look up.
For a moment there was a breathless silence. The espresso popped, the door creaked and the drawer jingled coins. The bearded friend, feeling he should respond finally spoke.
“Look, she’s going through some problems…”
His voice trailed into nothing.
“But she thinks I do things. I tell her that it’s all in her head. But she doesn’t listen. She doesn’t listen.”
Perhaps I shouldn’t have listened either. I felt I’d intruded, so I stood and left.
But the sadness in the tall man’s voice sat on me like an alp as I walked down Abbott Street through the cool morning. [Read more…]