The Mind Suck
Anita was someone I met at an art exhibit. She had pearl white skin, dark long hair.
When we got introduced, her obscure eyes stared at me for long, so long I thought the metal piece hooked to her blood red lips would pop out and her whole face would explode.
When she told me she was into fashion, sustainability and poetry, her eyes threatened to escape their orbits.
As soon as I discussed my writing, I felt her imprinting my words in her brain almost automatically as they exited my mouth.
And I just talked and talked; I couldn’t stop. I was somewhat caught in her eyes’ tridimensional loop.
It took the scent of a great cake passing by for my other senses to take over and help me suck myself out of Anita’s control.
