THE INFINITE

His name is Perry Sandiford. He lives just down the street from, well, everything. There is nothing he doesn't live near. Perry enjoys this bonus, of living near everything, of having access to all that is in all. If he could speak -- he cannot for he is mute -- he would tell you how he feels. But he cannot. He cannot say a word. 

Perry, this Perry man, he awakes one morning, to a shaft of light that slashes his face. He bolts upright, like a mechanical doll. Thus, the day, Perry's day, begins. 

It gets smaller and smaller -- approaching, coming near, smaller, ever smaller. It is like a mouse. 

Perry is getting dressed. He is shaving. He is applying cologne. Perry suddenly smells good, but to no one but himself. 

His brother is a lieutenant in the army. He is a big man, Perry's brother, he is Perry's big brother, but not in the Orwellian sense. Just his big brother. Perry loves Richard. Perry thinks Richard is the bestest of all. Richard always smiles at that, even when he reads it in a letter. 

The radio is on, Perry is listening intently, it is a show with people talking about something. Perry listens, intently listens, he is listening to the show intently. 

The mouse, the small small thing, scampers here and there, it is a mouse that runs and scampers. 

Today Perry stands at the mirror and stares and smiles and stares and wonders and smiles and stares. He stands at the mirror of his bathroom and stares. He feels himself fading into infinity. He feels himself fading away, into the infinity of the bathroom mirror, into the Infinity of all infinities, until he is the epitome of infinity itself.

 

© 2023 Jeffrey S. Callico