Back to Issue 11

Chris Acker
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In the Din
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This lady has been sobbing all night.  I get it.  We’re all upset.  Homelessness is no laughing matter.  But you’d think after an hour or two, she’d move on. 

Taryn rolls over in her cot.  “You can’t sleep either?"

Under the scoreboard—Go Comets!—this man kneels before his cot, reciting the Lord’s Prayer.  That’s not the half of it.  A Red Cross volunteer stops handing out extra blankets and pillows to pray alongside him.
           
Soon incantations to strange deities spread through the gymnasium like brushfire.  The smoke of extinguished sobs chokes the air.
           
I grab my wife’s hand before the warm embrace of asphyxiation snuffs us out.  “Let’s make a pact.”
           
“I’m listening.”
           
I wait for a lull in the din, and then I say, “Let’s make a pact to be mindful of every waking moment.”
           
“Mindful, yes.”
           
I pull her cot closer to me.  “And never skimp out on life again.”
           
A smile blossoms.  “No one will mourn the death of our cheapness.”
           
“And…”
           
She lifts her head off the cot, eager for more.  “And?”
           
“That’s it.”
           
​Like this, we go under.  Holding hands.  Ready for dawn.

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Christopher is a husband, father, and full-time clinical social worker living in Bridgewater, New Jersey. His work has appeared in The Ocotillo Review, Thing Magazine, Subtle Fiction, The Raven’s Perch, Inwood Indiana, Fictive Dream, Spelk, Firefly Magazine, The Molotov Cocktail, and No Extra Words. His work has also been featured on Wandsworth Radio in the UK.
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