Electra’s dictionary & film noir(jmmusechron); a stampede of elephants in the room

And so to find myself back in Jörn’s Manhattan bedroom again ….and 

for a moment it seems I swing as a saloon door that is snapped to extreme 

and actually fall against the inside of the door frame as I look again upon it. As. It looks exactly the same. Like no time has passed at all in here

Almost like a vacuum

But no. It is ….I find a comfort. 

That he is ….still who I believe him to be ….because I don’t want him to be …. I can’t even think the thought…. I don’t want him to be anyone but who I know him to be; the spy who carries a cello to the philharmonic and is writing an opera …. about me …. ? ….I walk willing myself not to feel anything. But I go anyway to ….his side of the bed that he sleeps on and touch familiar things he always has there; a random pile of change; passport, random ticket stubs, there’s one for the philharmonic I see…. and touch it…. 

“What is going on Jörn?” I look up at him standing there. As if frozen

but he looks blank

so blank 

“It is like you have disappeared,” I look up at him as he looks at me

“It is something to do with ….a case,” he says

But he stands there so oddly by the door as he stares at me. He stares at me. In that way. Again. What does that mean? He looks so strange 

“So—what is it? Are you in trouble?” I ask him

He turns away. He is clearly tense. Then clears his throat. It seems he is about to say something. But nothing comes out. He walks hesitantly and as if interrupting himself, he stops at the chest of draws that line the wall beside the bed and there he stops to lean against. He folds his arms and presses his thumb to his lower lip staring at a spot on the floor

I feel my mouth go dry. I do not know why, but I feel his chill, feel his ….mood; it sweeps the air like a cold, humid fog and chokes 

“Tell me,” I say but it hardly leaves my throat 

Finally he looks at me, and then with that empty stare shakes his head,

“I ….uh…. I am not at liberty to say the details but, I —may be guilty of a very serious ….thing.”

“‘Thing’…. ” I repeat and wait. 

But he says nothing. 

“You mean—like a war crime?” I ask and ….inwardly flinch as I can hear the note of hysterical rising in my own tone as I ask as I stare at him. But I seem to know; intuition; I  already know. I feel my head become strange and my face seem to go cold