Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk
8 min in Glassell Park, CA
It was on the second visit that Candice noticed the trend. Every ‘mystical’ person she’d crossed paths with had a wonky left eye. There must be some symbolism to it. Surely it validated their existence. The bulging eye of the gypsy with the lisp seemed apropos. But her lisp was unintelligible. Candice sat as far forward as possible without actually craning her head to the left she did when trying to hear friends at the club. Still she couldn’t understand the crinkled accent from the gypsy woman.
Janine had pitched the gypsy as the real deal. She was straight from Haiti by way of Cuba. Candice couldn’t tell the difference between the french words and the spanish words. Both blood lines flowed through her linguistic heart and yet she was a functional illiterate with the gypsy. She wondered if her absent-minded head nods were agreeing to some self-sacrifice for the greater good of her ancestry.
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