As it was Sunbonnet day the harridan put on her best sunbonnet, the one with the cinch-string and paisley hatband. She had a church-hat she wore on Saturdays, Thursdays and days that had an E in them, or on days when the sky was azure blue, cobalt or indigo blue. On Mondays she went hatless. Tuesdays she slept until ten-twenty-seven and preferred her toast coldish or slightly warm. Wednesdays sat between Tuesdays and Thursdays, the middle days, days spent in contemplation of what came before and what was to come. Saturday mornings she ate Monk’s cheese and biscuits and mulled over a cup of chamomile tea. Sunbonnets and seafaring boaters and head-scarves, such are hats, rattan, whiskey-cotton or straight linen. The harridan liked Sufi scarves and petite handkerchiefs made out of raglan and hemp. Every second Friday she wore an Estonian Taqiyah and a taffetta skirt with stays and double-hems, securing the Taqiyah to her head with ribbon and bobby-pins.
On Thursday the harridan went to the hospital in her church-hat. She saw a man who’s ear had been sheared off, a blood soaked rag wrapped round his head like a diaper. Another man had such a horrible cough that the nurse had to put him in a room all by himself (with glass walls bext to the vending machines). A woman with a swollen belly lay stretched out on two seats, her legs doubled one over the other, arms cradling her belly like a stone-child. A young man with a nervous tick ate a ham and cheese sandwich with a spoon, feet shuffling like millipedes, eyes trained on the woman with the swollen belly. A man waiting for his wife sat in a chair by the window. A woman waiting for her husband stood next to the man waiting for his wife. The harridan took off her church-hat and ran out of the hospital as fast as she could run, the stone-bellied woman howling like a stray dog, hands clutching the swell of her belly, the sun barely above the treeline.
On Thursday the harridan went to the hospital in her church-hat. She saw a man who’s ear had been sheared off, a blood soaked rag wrapped round his head like a diaper. Another man had such a horrible cough that the nurse had to put him in a room all by himself (with glass walls bext to the vending machines). A woman with a swollen belly lay stretched out on two seats, her legs doubled one over the other, arms cradling her belly like a stone-child. A young man with a nervous tick ate a ham and cheese sandwich with a spoon, feet shuffling like millipedes, eyes trained on the woman with the swollen belly. A man waiting for his wife sat in a chair by the window. A woman waiting for her husband stood next to the man waiting for his wife. The harridan took off her church-hat and ran out of the hospital as fast as she could run, the stone-bellied woman howling like a stray dog, hands clutching the swell of her belly, the sun barely above the treeline.
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