Fragments from books that don’t exist: That Darn Mannikin


From the first Abraham distrusted the newcomer. She was too loud, seemed vain, and made no sense. This was supposed to be an atonement center, not a braggart bazaar! It wasn’t cool to boast about how long or how many or how low or how bad. All that was in the past so to speak and now it was time to turn proverbial corners and hit the ground running. It was hopefulness and peace within yourself. It was letting go and holding hands. It was me last and everybody else go right ahead I’ll wait right here and smell the coffee. It was about time. It was modesty and nodding and compassion and deliverance. He was the one who decided when and where you could stand in the light and get your turn. He didn’t know who in the heck she thought she was. Junkie or not, this thing’s got wheels and wheels they turn and why won’t she just sit down already and let somebody else spill their guts out for a change. He didn’t like this place anymore, not as long as she was talking. He already knew he would never stop looking at her as long as she was in that room.


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