Down the Rabbit Hole: A Tale of Suicide and Macaroni

October 18, 2014 12:54 PM

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Down the Rabbit Hole: A Tale of Suicide and Macaroni

A raisin, a razor, an Ikea rug. That's all I remember of it now: flashes like yellowed projection slides in sixth grade biology with Ms. Wallace flapping a fleshy arm before the screen, her hand undulating forward, "mi-to-chon-dri-on" -- her skinny lips pulling over each vowel like she were casting about for some kamikaze straw in a Diet Coke at a Cracker Barrel and didn't want to peel her eyes away for as long as it took to crack the peg puzzle. Centriole. Cytoskeleton. Nucleus. Slide. Slide. Slide.

There's that rug in its infinite home-of-Swedish-meatball glory. Slide. There's that raisin squeezed between the desk chair and the carpet. The edges of it now the color of gunmetal, it had adopted a few charming stray hairs -- both of which, I thought, were quite appropriate for a raisin. Slide. I'...

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