Healing Machine for Christina
For the anger/frustration of not being able to get away from someone who makes your life hell.
You find that your enemy is not only taking over your life, but living rent-free in your mind, as well. So, you start charging him rent at a rate of a penny per thought, which the two of you agree is perfectly reasonable. On the first of the month, you wake up to find your apartment flooded with shiny new pennies. You teach your son to stack them in rolls so you can take them to the bank. It's fun for a couple hours, but the pennies keep flowing in - through the windows, through the crack beneath the front door, through the air vents. You can't keep up. The sound of your son driving his toy trucks through a carpet of pennies wakes you up before dawn every morning. You wade through them on the way to the bathroom, your legs heavy under their weight. When you go to make a cup of tea, they pour from the faucet, filling the kettle. Enough is enough.
You tell the tenant it’s time for him to move out, but the law is on his side as long as he keeps paying. The pennies swallow up your living room couch, the kitchen table, and all the appliances. You have to hunch over to get from room to room. At this rate, you’ll be out on the street in a matter of weeks. Your son says he doesn't want to live on the pennies anymore. He asks if he can put them all in his dump truck and drive them away, which you think is a great idea. You rent a dump truck and fill it to the brim with all those pennies. Your son is happier than he's been in his entire life, asking if he and mommy are really, really gonna get to ride in the truck. Your apartment, now empty, looks enormous, the ceilings magnificently high, the kitchen impossibly large, your bedroom a presidential suite. For a moment, you don't think of your enemy. You feel a rush of gratitude for where you are and wherever you're going. You climb into the truck with your son and drive.