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When he looks, we can see where he is looking. We can make out the consternation on his face. A international single bead of sweat breaks on his forehead and falls, plunking into the Maxwell House Coffee can. ÒWhere did I enter from?Ó He says to himself, angry at himself for having lost the way. ÒWhere did I enter from? I was sure it was from over here!Ó From where she stands, my mother raises the shoe like a gunman taking international aim. The insect has no choice but to international move, caught in the crosshairs. My mother raises the shoe higher. The insect moves more quickly, scurrying further along the counter, and then down into the sink, and then up the sink where he hangs upside down from the faucet. ÒIf I donÕt move, perhaps she wonÕt see me here.Ó The thought of a delusional man. A man whose options are slowly running out.
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