January 28, 2007
Page 27
1. On Walking Sixteen Steps
Upon ascertaining the elevator door had closed behind me with a soft thud, I let my eyes fall shut. Collecting my fragmented senses, I turned down the corridor towards my door and walked nineteen steps. I walked precisely nineteen steps with my eyes closed, not one more or one fewer. Thanks to whiskey, my head felt dimly like a stripped screw and my mouth tasted like stale cigarettes.
No matter how drunk I am, I can close my eyes and, measuring my pace, walk a straight line of nineteen steps. It's a long-held gift born of self-training. Whenever I'm drunk, I hold my back firmly erect and my head high and inhale the smells of morning air and concrete hallway with all my might. Then, I close my eyes and walk nineteen straight steps through the whiskey fog.
Posted by tim at January 28, 2007 11:49 PM
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