Emil was rocking back and forth with a vacant expression until Dave said, “Hello,” and Emil stopped rocking and cheerfully said, “Morning.” Dave was headed across the street to his store. He was halfway there when he remembered he was supposed to buy a bottle of wine. He frowned and slowed down as he tried to remember why—there was an occasion, but he couldn’t remember what it was. All he could remember was that he wanted to buy something special. This had been happening frequently to Dave. Often in the morning as he was about to leave for work. One moment he’d be standing by the front door; the next, galloping up the stairs on some vitally important mission, the purpose of which escaped him once he was standing in the bedroom. All he could do was stand by his bureau like one of those poor dumb moose who wander into subdivisions, moving his eyes woefully around the room, looking for a clue to the urge that had sent him there. The moose end up in the suburbs when a parasite moves into their brain.
What do You think about Home From The Vinyl Cafe (2005)?
