NEARLY SOUTH OF BROAD - anthony marshall

It was like a seven year car ride rewound in time lapse footage, quick deliberate movements and jerky limbs, all the while a weak sun reclined on a rainbow in the windshield. The music from the speakers played backwards, a resounding bouquet of issshhh and umphff instigating reality. Jamie took pictures of herself in the rearview mirror with her cell phone camera. She talked about flashing a trucker one time in high school, and how, even though she occasionally used the phrase ’God Damn’, she really did believe Jesus Christ was the son of God. Jamie reclined her seat and flowed, just flowed out like a palmetto tree in the pre-noon sun. Charleston, she said with a giggle that tortured both children and convicts alike. Aaron could see the ugly distortion of himself convulsing in the void of her dollar store sunglasses. His face appeared satanic and cruel with a furled brow like the lips of Cerberus, yet, like all minions of hell, was powerless to resist a woman in tube socks. Jamie sang the songs backwards and danced carefree in fast forward, occasionally glancing at herself in the rearview mirror to look into the reflection of her sunglasses.

Anthony Marshall
The Myth Of Sisyphus
Albert Camus