
The Cut by Timothy Robbins
I cut the side of my left thumb, a scissor slip as I was patching the sofa. Elizabeth Schwarzkopf in shaky black and white sang, “Drink to me only with thine eyes.” Mike was tête-à-tête with an astrologer online (prophecy steadieth his fears as music doth mine). The thumb bled a little then stopped as though it thought the effort wasted. If I were in … Continue reading The Cut by Timothy Robbins