The entries were creative and inspired. But I took Leeroy off to the side, and robot to robot-human, we agreed that this week should be a little different. I’ve been glued to the television, radio, and internet reporting of Hurricane/Nor’Easter/SuperDuper Storm Sandy. The symbolism, metaphors, and culture reflection have been amazing. Heck, Sandy even broke the internet for sites like Huffington Post, Gawker, and I think the other place I write for, Sprocket Ink. With so many suffering, as many as 5 million people without power and other amenities, and at least 35 dead, I thought Uncle Bob aka Robert Zimmerman aka Bob Dylan would be a great choice. So, I made an executive decision and picked the tune, Bob’s Shelter From The Storm. For my contribution, we go back to Soul To Body, and try to comfort the emotionally and physically beat up, Jake.
Reminiscing through old photographs brought back vivid memories of Camille. In between moments of forced laughter with Violet and Augusta, Jake convinced himself that the acid in his stomach was shame, not the painkillers he’d ingested. The pangs of guilt that knotted his insides were because he was tired of thinking about how much he missed his dead wife. She couldn’t touch him, kiss him, warm his body so what was the point. Thinking about her hurt as much as the broken ribs.
Augusta left. Violet went to bed. In the shadows of his lonely bedroom he dialed Mallory’s number.