Boxes

The shelves were a disaster.

-It’s a system, Lena said.

-It’s a hazard.

He pulled a stack down. She had convinced him to help her organize books she still had in boxes.

Stanley held up his copy of The Stranger, still looking like he’d just bought it fresh last week.

-So, Meursault, he said.

Lena took a stack of paperbacks from the floor.

-What about him?

-He’s broken, Stanley said. -He doesn’t feel anything.

-He feels, Lena corrected. -He just doesn't perform.

She shoved a row of books into place.

-Society wants a show, she said. Tears. Teeth gnashing.

-He’s a sociopath, Lena.

-He’s honest, she said.

Stanley looked at the book in his hand. Then at her back.

-Is that what this is? he asked. Integrity?

She turned around.

-I won’t perform for you, Stanley, she said.

-I didn't ask you to.

-You will, she said. Eventually, everyone wants the show.

Stanley didn't argue. He picked up the next stack.