The Severed Hand I Wish I Hadn't Seen: The Result of Which is My Nausea

He looked like a chef the way he waved it around in the air like a chicken breast that's halfway de-boned. It had already been drained of all blood and dredged in street dirt. All he needed was a frying pan and a stove.

His words were searing enough, "This is what you Americans have done!"

Words

It does not make it true to say it out loud. It does not make it a lie either. But the brain can rest when you talk, when you say it. And in that resting place, after the adrenaline has worn off, lies the unguarded truth.

It isn't until you get up from a fall that you know you're going to be okay.

"Broom The Smokes, Dude."

said the ad copywriter to the actor with the cigarette behind his ear.

"We don't want it in the next shot."

Thud.

Its amazing how much privacy laying on the sidewalk affords you in a city like Chicago. You won't be bothered. No one will ask you if you need help. People will try not to stare.

You can lay there, staring at the sky, splayed out in an awkward position with a dusting of snow collecting on your already drenched winter coat, until you have to reach your throbbing arm into your coat pocket to get out your cell phone to call your husband to help you up.