Bear

I’ll never forget the last words my sweetheart said to me. They had this hauntingness about them, you know. I don’t know if it was the way she screamed them, or that it was accompanied by her limbs flailing.

“There are bears in the office!” Then she was mauled to death.

When I told the police that, they threw the white coat at me faster than that bear took off my girlfriend’s left arm. And that was fast. I mean, I blinked and I watched her arm fly across a row of cubicles like it was a poor thrown football. Twisting and twirling.

In a strange way it was mesmerizing, like a car accident. You don’t want to look because it’s a disaster and there will be blood everywhere. But at the same time, you want to know. You want to see what happened. So I watched.

Then the black bear grabbed her by the leg and tossed her to the far end of the office. Like a rag doll being launching by the fan blade of a living room ceiling fan.

I might seem very chill and cavalier about all this. I would say that is from the medication the doctors put me on. All patients here at the asylum get them.

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