I lie in the darkness for quite a while before realising that it isn’t darkness at all. Light is pushing bravely through the four sets of plaid curtains, those to my left – which I think is south – in particular. Outside it will be bluish and cold, but the curtain fabric warms it up, and I’d be quite happy to stay this way for an hour or so. However, my watch, when I find it in my dressing-gown pocket, says it is almost midday. So there’s no option. It’s on my way to the shower-room that I see the envelope pushed under the draught excluder at the bottom of the door. My name is type-written in capitals, underlined, with a full stop after. Inside, the letter starts without any kind of salutation, and the capitals continue: I’M SORRY IF I SCARED YOU, BUT I’M SAYING PLEASE THINK. I WANT TO TELL YOU THAT I KNOW YOU HAVE SUFFERED, BUT THAT’S BECAUSE YOU RESIST THE LORD, AND THE FACT IS YOUR SUFFERING CAN BE A PEARL WITHOUT A PRICE IF YOU OPEN YOUR EYES. AND PLEASE, PLEASE DON’T COME HERE AND DO THE SAME THING ALL OVER AGAIN.
What do You think about The Story Of My Face (2011)?
