art bechstein

Jane: I mean, up until this moment, this has been the relatively normal getting-to-know-you chit-chat, right? But if you tell me something that you’ve never said out loud to anyone before then this moment become unique. It becomes indelible. Can you do that for me?

Art: I don’t know. I’m not sure I have one.

Jane: Of course you do. Everybody has something that they have never told anyone else before. I can wait. There’s no time limit.

Art: I have this thing that happens to me. An experience. It happens before I relize it. I don’t feel it coming on or anything. It’s just suddenly I’m aware of it. I can feel it. I vanish. When it first happened, I was 9 and it was right after my mother died and I was scared. I don’t know how long it lasts. I know when it happens.I look people, in the eye, strangers. But they never look back. They never see me. I’ve thought to myself, this must be what it’s like. This must be what dying is. Just sort of fade away. Vanish. I guess I worry there’s gonne be a time where it happens and never ends. And I’d stay that way forever, you know.