5.He peered earnestly over his bottlecap glasses. “Ears are the window to the soul,” he whispered and eyed the orderly looking but not listening to us. They had taken his shoelaces too.
“You know. Ears are the window to the soul.” I looked out the window at birds moving that I couldn’t hear through the thick sealed glass. I run my thumbnail across the garden scene but it finds no purchase; not a crack in sight.
6. “I can hear you in there,” some asshole muttered from the other room. “Praying. It’s pathetic, heartbreaking even.” I tried to talk but the cat—I mean the demon—got my tongue instead and I dripped hot spit onto the cement floor.
