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Show Plot They don't stop talking when I walk into the room. They're fiddling with cell phones. Like a bad defense attorney, I ask questions I don't know the answer to. How do we know when we 're done for? What would you save if your house were on fire? One rings. They don't feel like talking. One wears a ski mask. I conflate plot with narrative. The fire. My upper lip beads with sweat. I illustrate: boy kills dog, boy feels bad, boy kills himself I wonder if any of them is suicidal. They look at the clock. I say, the antagonist prevents the protagonist from getting what she wants. Sometimes these are different sides of the same person. I break them into groups. Maybe I could let them go early. Sometimes only the reader knows the situation has changed. In this state, one in five carries a gun. One leaves. I pronounce "scop" like "scoop" with a hard "c." My vocal cords tighten and rasp. One of them corrects me. The others are not talking about plot. Is blood trickling down my legs. I look at the clock. |