We thought of Sarah in terms of silence, though Sarah shared with us much bright chatter.
Chuck and I loved Sarah’s bright chatter, as we loved the clatter of a hot rod, with bright bod, splinter and splatter, narrow shatter, that we might fast, unholy, to give Sarah peace.
We fasted while Sarah starved herself to death.
When Chuck wasn’t around and it was just me and Sarah, we never planned anything. We wouldn’t plan on getting together. We wouldn’t arrange our meeting, and we sure as heck never dated. We’d “happen” to get together. I was happy about that. It made getting together a miracle.
For instance, or instance and miracle,
I was sitting in a food court, of all places. It was the kind of food court Sarah not only wouldn’t frequent, but would make a point of bypassing. I mean, you’ve heard of soul food? Well this was soulless food, and this was a soulless food court. When Sarah went anorexic, I wondered if it was this food court that got that ball rolling.
Spam of Human Affection 
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