He knew it was finished that night she didn’t return until 4 in the morning, drunk. What disturbed him most though was the truly humbling realization afterwards that despite the months together and the intense intimacy, he really didn’t know her. That there were parts of this woman like those places marked on ancient maps of the sea that said things like MONSTERS LIVE HERE – STAY AWAY!


An Hour

“Who has never killed an hour? Not casually or without thought, but carefully: a premeditated murder of minutes. The violence comes from a combination of giving up, not caring, and a resignation that getting past it is all you can hope to accomplish. So you kill the hour. You do not work, you do not read, you do not daydream. If you sleep it is not because you need to sleep. And when at last it is over, there is no evidence: no weapon, no blood, and no body. The only clue might be the shadows beneath your eyes or a terribly thin line near the corner of your mouth indicating something has been suffered, that in the privacy of your life you have lost something and the loss is too empty to share.”

Mark Z. Danielewski,