FFP#27 – ex silentio
When he snores, a single line of white satin moths flies from his mouth. They are such a bright and reflective white, that I can even see them in the dark. They land on the ceiling above me, forming a circle, their wings pulsating with each sound he makes. One night — he’s snoring again — I place my hand over his mouth to keep the moths inside. Instead, they squeeze out of his nostrils, one at a time, hurrying to escape. Even then, they flutter toward the ceiling and form their circle above us. When I tell him in the morning, tell him what I’ve heard and seen, he laughs. “Don’t watch me when I sleep,” he says. “Put on earplugs. Go to sleep yourself.” How do I sleep through that? I ask him, but he just shakes his head. “Dreams or something. Gotta be.” That night I cover his mouth and I squeeze his nostrils tightly closed. I suspect the moths will fly out of his ears. Instead, nothing comes out of any part of his body. For minutes I wait, but not one single moth appears. Maybe I was dreaming. I move my hand, release his nose. There is a nearly imperceptible rise of his chest. He doesn’t snore. I wait again, listening. But no, not even one little snort. I can’t even hear him breathe. I rest my head against my pillow. Silence. Now I can sleep.
Tags: flash fiction project
Uncategorized | 
July 19, 2010 12:40 am
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