Precious Perforations Outgassing Like in Rome
The two men
explored each floor of the library, collecting all of the paper thrown into the
recycling bins. Ronald wore a trenchcoat
much like the one his father had worn at Sheila’s arraignment. Gabblegi, the other man, made do with a crude
rawhide wrap. He would glance at Ronald
from time to time with envy.
“We should
have brought a big bag,” Ronald, his arms laden with unwanted copies of pages
from other men’s works, reflected as he and his partner stepped into the
elevator.
“What’re
you going to do with all that paper?” a young apricot asked from her corner.
Gabblegi
studied her shoes closely, weighing the status conferred relative to his own
hesperatic sandals.
.
