Her tongue was like a prize fighter when she was concentrating, though the events were never catastrophic; like diffusing a bomb or wiring a million dollar piece of government machinery. Yesterday she was vacuuming the kitchen floor; her tongue darting out to press on her upper lip before she would catch herself and pull it back in. The more she tried to keep her tongue under control the more it would flicker and end up caught between her teeth. It was as if the muscles needed to push and pull a vacuum cleaner weren't enough to propel her across the kitchen floor. An extra power generator was necessary to hold the rest of the kitchen in place so it all wouldn't end up in the plastic canister already full of cat hair and dead skin dust. Her concentration kept the world in place; her tongue always testing reality like a snake tasting the air for an available meal.
Driving, washing dishes, even reading; that little pink tip sneaking out and contorting the rest of her face. It was one of the many things that would make me smile from just the remembered image of it.
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Well, I wanted that to be more but nothing else is coming. And for some reason, though I believe I got a full night's sleep, my eyes are watering and I can't stop yawning. So enough of staring at the computer screen this morning before I have to go to work and spend the whole day staring at the screen there.
random image:
3 comments:
It start off like the beginning of a really good short story, and then goes right over the top. Still love it.
Over the top? Pray tell, in what manner? I know my sentence structure is horrid (just a quick review makes apparent glaring errors), but have I again given in to my almost faulty love of description?
Ah, finally, I can get into the comments section. Over the top in a wonderful Douglas Adams sort of way. If your love of descriptions is an almost fault, then it is a fault worth keeping. I think I can never see a peeking tongue quite the same way again. :)
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