ARRvol34 master reduced - Flipbook - Page 46
Toenail Clippings
by
With a crisp slip, it sounded as if something was clipping its
toenails outside of my bedroom window. It was five in the morning, slits of the porch light outside gleamed across my legs as I lay
in bed and the morning crawled closer. My assumption was that of
the source being a giant sitting on my porch with toenail clippers,
bound to this tired hour. The sound crawled through the marrow
of my bones—I felt the need to glance at my toes after each clip…
clip, simply to ensure my own toenails didn’t flick away with each
flinching function of the noise. There was a significant amount of
pause between clips—as if the Porch Giant had to pause and reflect
on each extraction of the nail, to perfect its masterpiece with each
angle of depth and length. I wondered if its toenails grew thickly,
or if it accidentally clipped any flesh off of the sides of its big toes. I
wished I had a drink.
I paused at the blackness that was packed tightly in between the
slits of my blinds. Small brown bugs lay on the ridge at the bottom
of the window, stuck to the windowsill’s edge. Curiosity slobbered
through my limbs as the noise came and went, clip…clip. I pulled
the cord, opening the naked space the blinds hid from me, only to
see my red porch chair within arm length’s distance to be empty.
Dust particles whirred within the beam, and I saw myself levitating
in the reflection of nightfall. As soon as I blinked, I heard a clip, the
light went out, and I felt my toes twitch.
I imagine the Giant was probably just finishing the other foot
now. If not on my porch, where? I wondered if it wiggled its toes in
servitude to itself when it was finished clipping—if its toes were
hairy—maybe it had to pluck the hairs, too.
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Looking in the window’s reflection as the light flickered back on,
a twisted body mirrored my movements, my gaze. A laptop lay on
the body’s legs, and on mine. Their bed was right up against the
window, as was mine.
