The Secret Lives of Emails.docx Read Free

this moment in time, in front of this brick wall, and with this pain in my head. I just need to gather my thoughts so I can figure out what that purpose or reason is.
    He didn’t know that thinking you are special is simply a symptom of being alive and aware of your surroundings. It doesn’t actually mean anything.
    Despite not being conscious prior to the pain in his head, he did seem to understand some things instinctively. For example, never eat yellow snow; an apple a day keeps the doctor away, but not the dentist; and unless you’re an animal, the salad fork always goes on the far left when setting the table for a dinner party. He was also sure he wasn’t meant to have run into a brick wall.
    He pulled his hands away from his face and glanced up at the impediment. It didn’t seem like much. Just a standard brownish brick wall as far as he could tell. It appeared to be well-grouted. Truly good workmanship. It went from floor to ceiling, wall to wall and left no gaps anywhere. Well, no gap except the one about two feet by two feet—with two feet sticking out of it.
    Feet.
    The feet looked standard as well; though unlike his, they wore a pair of sneakers and some black socks. The socks went to the knees, and everything above was left to the imagination as the remainder of the person disappeared into the wall. Surrounding the legs were other body parts that didn’t seem to belong to the feet. He stood up, walked over, and leaned down for a better look. He poked the back of a calf with his finger.
    Hmmm . . . yes just standard feet, legs, and calves.
    Standardly stuck in a wall with other bodies crammed around it.
    Then, all at once, the feet kicked him in the nose. He fell back onto his butt again, uttering his favorite sound.
    “Owww . . . ”
    “ummghhth garunual miskowpo,” the feet said to him.
    “I didn’t quite catch that. This sudden pain in my face is quite deafening,” mumbled the naked man from between his hands where he held his now bloody, throbbing nose.
    “UMMGHHTH GARUNUAL MISKOWPO,” the feet said.
    “Fine, but keep still.”
    He walked back up to the hole; this time keeping his face well clear as he gripped the legs at the ankles. He pulled. Nothing happened.
    “Iklsa edlse!”
    “Well, I was trying. You seem to be in there pretty good. Is there a particular reason you are stuck like this?”
    “GOSJDLEJF!”
    “No need to talk like that. You don’t even know my mother. Just give me a second.”
    He braced his feet against the bottom of the wall and leaning back pulled with all his weight at the kicking feet. With noise like the button flying off ill-fitting trousers, the legs came free, along with the individual attached to them. The person crashed into the naked man, and they both went tumbling across the ground. Clothed limbs tangled with naked ones as they both grunted and groaned to extricate themselves from what was fast becoming an awkward way to meet. The woman popped up first with an “umpfh.” She brushed herself off before deciding to lend a hand to the man, helping him onto his feet.
    They stood across from each other silently.
    The woman was dressed in tennis shoes, knee-high black socks, and a black skirt with a button-up white shirt, only half buttoned. She was an inch or two shorter than the man but seemed to stand taller as she looked the man up and down.
    The man, as I may have mentioned, wore nothing.
    “You’re naked,” the newly-pulled-from-a-hole-in-a-wall-woman nonchalantly said to the naked man.
    “You’re welcome,” said the naked man with an air of satisfaction.
    “Excuse me?” said the woman with unmistakable anger quickly coming into her voice. Unmistakable, that is, to anyone but someone who had literally just been born.
    “I said you’re welcome. Who knows how long it’s been for you.”
    “How long what’s been?”
    “You know, how long before I came along.” He shook his head at the seeming strangeness of this conversation. “Seems to me