Still Life by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Still Life
Page 218
more or less something else. A third pulse. A kind of ... editorial hesitation.”
Finn, holding a fork carved from footnotes: “It’s the rhythm of a page that was never written. Or perhaps one that was written and then ceremonially misplaced. I think Gregory is trying to confess.”
Susie, tilting her head toward the chandelier: “Confession without annotation. That’s bold. Almost aristocratic. Do you remember the Ceremony of Misremembered Titles? I was addressed as ‘The Duchess of Footnote Rebellion.’ I bowed twice, once in confusion, once in protest.”
Finn, smiling: “I was ‘The Earl of Emotional Indexing.’ I curtsied. The Bureaucrats of the Unhelpful Gesture applauded, then misplaced their scripts again. But Susie, look; this dish. [He gestures to a bowl of translucent broth labeled ‘The Glossary’s Regret.’] It’s warm. That means someone still believes in sincerity.”
Susie, dipping a spoon, then pausing: “Or someone forgot to refrigerate their cynicism. Either way, it’s leaking. Finn, what if collapse isn’t the end of ritual, but its most honest form? A sacred malfunction. A refusal to continue pretending.”