“I shouldn’t be doing this,” Sailor said, “I shouldn’t be helping you…”  The way she spoke, was gentle, under her breath, almost as if her whisper were some other voice that had been thrown into her body.

Now the tears came easily, so that there was no pressure.  It was not crying, but weeping.

Sailor placed her hands on my shoulders.

“You’re weak,” she said, “come lie down.”

She helped me up.

It felt awkward that she was helping me up.

She helped me out of the kitchen and into her bedroom.  I pulled her comforter over myself, took off my jeans under the covers, and dropped them over the edge.  I curled up.  Before I shut my eyes I could see Sailor standing in the doorway.

She closed her eyes and reopened them slowly.

I heard the same strange, whispering voice I’d heard before.  “Sweet dreams,” she seemed to say.

Later I woke up to the sound of music.

Sailor was lighting a candle.

“What is this music?” I asked.

“It’s Kraddy,” she said, blowing out a match and dropping the spent matchstick on the top of the dresser.  “…truth has no path…”

The music was heavy, and fast, and I remembered the night Sailor and I had met at Lakshe.  Then the rhythm slowed, and I listened until I fell asleep.


2 responses to “Kraddy

    • Thanks. This comes from a music producer named Matthew Kratz; “truth has no path” was the title of his first album. I am about to give credit for this…

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