The Unreliable Narrator

He said he couldn’t remember all that much,

maybe he chose to forget a little,

a few minor details

nothing of importance,

a few fragments here

something else there;

who cares?

who knows?

who cares who knows?

his whereabouts during those vital hours,

her unaccounted for absence from work,

that break-in at her home and nothing taken,

the discovery of her car in an abandoned lot,

those unexplained scratch marks on his hands?

He said he couldn’t remember all that much;

in front of him a nurse

ushering the detective out of the room,

sat up alone now

with just a monitor beeping above his head

and spreading across his face,

a slow smile.

 

2 thoughts on “The Unreliable Narrator

  1. VijayNair

    Another engaging piece reminding us of James Cagney ,Edward G. Robinson,and the detective/gangster movies of the 1930s.

    Reply

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