The New Yorker: Fiction cover image

Akhil Sharma Reads Joyce Carol Oates

The New Yorker: Fiction

CHAPTER

The Black Hole That Sucks You In

I saw he was just a kid, maybe 19 years old. I jammed the sponge into his mouth so he was almost choking. And i did not want to lose him. He was drugged and should have been anaesthetized but it was taking too long. The panic in his eyes said that this was so reddish, kinky hair and a red sheen to his skin, like ox blood shoe polish. And he knew it, but it's too late now. A fraction of a second before and you're free, but a fractions of a second later, and you're sucked into the black hole.

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