Once a woman went to live in the city of
Let’s Pretend Nothing is Going On. She thought that since she was there, she
might as well point a few things out.
She got so busy with this, she wound up falling in love. It was a perfect love, of course it was, with an aristocrat of Let’s Pretend Nothing is Going On. She married. She went on pointing things out.
She lived, she worked, she made love, she did the best she could. She pointed a few things out. Negative was not the word, she pointed out. The word was concerned.
Of course I could be wrong, she pointed out. But I am not necessarily or automatically wrong, just because I’m pointing things out.
A time came when terrible things happened in the city of
Let’s Pretend Nothing is
Going On. To her own house, to her own
love, the trouble came. These are things
that can happen even now, and even in that fortunate city.
She cried, she called out, she ran back and forth in the street between her house and the house of her husband’s kin, a prominent family in Let’s Pretend Nothing Is Going On.
Mercifully, her husband was able to make a full recovery. But now she herself fell ill. She went on pointing things out. She got sicker all the time. She grew desperate. She pointed a few things out.
I’m dying, I’m dying, she said.
She noticed her words weren’t having much of an effect. Goddamn, she said. I’m tired of pointing things out.
She walked downtown and caught the first bus out.. Something had happened. Or maybe it hadn’t. Anyway, she was feeling much better and that was the end of her life in the city of
Pretend Nothing is Going On.