Lapse

He sits there. In silence. The weight of silence all around him. Closing in around him. The weight crushing him He taps his fingers against the desk. He taps his pencil against the desk. Rhythmically he taps it against the desk. He recites his German phrases. Repeating. He recites his German slowly. He is not well. He knows he is not well. He's not surprised he's not well. He doesn't think he'll ever be well again. He knows he'll never be all together again. Suddenly the world seems so huge. Suddenly the world is moving on without him. Suddenly the world doesn't care about him. He counts to ten in German. It's so intimidating. Then he counts to twelve in German. Maybe he's slipping? He counts up to fifteen in German. It seems his empire is collapsing all around him. He counts to twenty in German. He doesn't know what to think. He counts to thirty in German. He feels broken. Fourty-two. Scattered. Sixty-eight. Divided. One-hundred. He's not himself anymore. So he just sits. He sits and looks out the window. He sits and begins to count the cornflowers. In German.

XxX

So, I had to write a paper for Intro to Psychology so that I can get into Psychology class in the fall. Long story short, this sorta spawned from it. I like to pretend this is an INGENOUS work of psychological fiction on my part. It's not. But I like to pretend it is. Poor Prussia, he doesn't even exist any more. I'd be a little nutty too if Russia owned half of me!

I read somewhere that the national flower of Prussia was the cornflower, though I might have just made that up, don't cite me on it.