“Adroitly correspondent”, was how her husband had once described the e-mails and chat room blurbs he’d discovered on her computer. Was he jealous? She didn’t think so and yet…

Over by the paddock, beneath a lowering, almost glowering storm-seeded sky was something curious. He’d left the John Deer out and taken off for town. What would transpire there?

There were attitudes and then there were attitudes but if she and Danny were going to reconcile, there would have to come a reckoning. Deep in her heart, she knew that it was inevitable. She pondered as she sat and wept.

That’s when the strangest thing happened. There came a clawing sound at what was left of their front door. As she turned into the hallway, what caught her eye was a distant image, cold and feverish simultaneously. And patently unpleasant. She sweated bullets of perfumed musk, she often did but not like this. In the sanguine light of a storm-drenched sunset she was naked and vulnerable and she knew it. Her nakedness was as real as it was figurative and furtive and she’d been raised to be ashamed of it.

Harried now and pursued into a chasm of her ineptitude to define this tableau she swam in the variables of it’s meaning. “God, can this be what it’s all about”, she cried as the John Deer was craftily stowed for later.


George Yesthal

Brodheadsville, United States

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Artist's Description

Description? None…Well, BRAINPUKE might apply.
I’d been considering lately writing something that, when read, would seem like it’s going somewhere and ultimately not do so but leave a feeling nonetheless. This is it.

Artwork Comments

  • Jim Hall
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