Story of the Month

Patience by Alan Passey

(after Victoria Chang)

Patience died today. Patience died on Tuesday, Wednesday. Thursday. Patience was in her voice. Now her voice zings with irritation. They’d held hands, kissed in front of us, in front of everyone. Now, he has eaten – she doesn’t sleep. He doesn’t sleep. She doesn’t eat. Their newfound weight loss is better for their BMI if only they had the inclination for sport. They move with the caution of chess, each to be the other’s history, mindful of the trigger of inflexion. The tension between battles is green. He clings to a hope of forgiveness. She clings to a hope of a future. Only the wall remains.