right hand pointing

Life grew heavy with the weight of names. You were drunk all the time. The inmates fought their straitjackets and howled, their ages hard to guess. It was probably what you deserved for speaking ironically to people who couldn’t detect irony. When your shift ended, you started for home in a cold and depressing rain. On the way you wondered how it was that the clocks in your house never seemed to move, but that night fell regardless, a hangman’s black hood.