Fragments

Here is a shard of my current growth, Kintsugi. I love sharing these pieces to see how the world reacts. Does it pull back or closer? Will they run their fingers along the edges in fascination? Or will it be sharp enough to cut?

The bar was named Anomie. It started as a themed gastro place, first an Irish pub, then slowly melted into whatever sold drinks. Its fliers and posters formed a sedimentary layer of cultural and ethnic flotsam, and the local flavor was, as the kids called the sloppy drinks made of all flavors, graveyard. Hugh’s friends were a fixture, more scenery than greenery, and their talk washed over him, like photons through glass, touching nothing, and leaving only a faint wonder at what they must see other than their reflection. He dressed a little like them, faintly old-fashioned, raiders of their grandparents’ wardrobes. They didn’t need anything from him. They liked everything. He valued that the most about them, no hassle, just let them chatter.
Hugh was self-medicating for Halloween. The last time he saw his brother was here, a year ago. He remembered Len was manic, telling him about the spiders. “They have glass eyes, like beads, and they drip, and drip, they were brought here to serve night, and they always chew with their mouth closed.” Len gestured sharply with his fork at a sparkly vampire that oozed retro. “They eat, but not regular matter, like, invisible things, fear or ephemera. They make webs out of space, and feed nightmares.” He suddenly stabbed the fork down into the table, hard, causing the server to jump back. “Listen to me!” he roared, overbalanced, and fell, pushing over the tall table, spilling drinks and throwing a mug to explode against the wall. Glass shards stuck to his shoes. All the eyes were turned toward them.
“You hurt.” The blood on his hand looked black in the bar lighting. “I hate to see you like this.”
Len slapped away his hand and stood. “You never understood. You are still all stuck in this- thing.” He waved around at the costumed crowd. His eyes glittered black.

“I understand.” Lens mind worked at angles, half dream sometimes. He had nightmares about spiders crawling in his ears and hollowing him out like an old tree. He feared the world cocooning him, changing him. He fought it.