One Day My Life Will Change by Ken Sparling

 

For a moment, Mary considered going back into the library, unlocking the front door and finding out what the child was hoping for.

   What was the child hoping for?

   But, she decided, she would not be able to get back into the library, disarm the alarm and get to the front door before the boy was gone.

   Perhaps, Mary thought, the child is hoping that his experience of the object as a plurality of moments was coming to an end. Maybe his ability to go on living depends on him understanding the singularity of an object, even in the face of evidence to the contrary.

 

Don’t move, Mary told the boy, but she was in the heart of the flame, rising deep into the lie of drama. If every object became anew with every shift of the head, the boy would surely go mad.

 

Yet, Mary, is it not still possible for us to encounter the object anew? Is the stabilizing of the object world, lie that it is, not a very necessary lie?

 

New York Tyrant Vol. I No. III