Michas Story

Here’s a new beginning for Micha’s Story. If you don’t know what Micha’s Story is, then don’t worry about it. This is for long-time DJDC readers with good memories.

The tape, the CCTV tape, black and white and out of focus on the mini TV in the closet-sized office of strip mall security, shows a middle-aged woman talking with her hands to the young sales clerk behind the counter. He looks like she might as well have her hands crushed around his balls. He nervously rolls on his feet. A transaction takes place. She leaves.

This is the story of my childhood. Except I am still a child.

This is the movie of your life. Roll the tape inside your head. Fade to black and white now, except the tape, the mute Closed Circuit TV tape of one million security cameras, is already black and white. So fade to color.

Cue the soundtrack.

This is the story of my life. But for you, my life lie just started.

Don’t live a lie is so cliché. Try not to live a lie and see what happens. Lost. Forgotten. Truth escapes the physics of economy: it is in sparse supply, and yet it has no value.

The middle-aged woman walks from the store on a million CCTV tapes, out a million doors, into a million cars, where a boy waits for her on a million leather bucket seats.