The Angle

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In lieu of an abstract, below is the essay's first paragraph.

"It was August because April was gone and he didn't know why. He walked down the midnight street unseen, and un-seeing, dreamed his steps up the walk: to the door. Above, the nighthawks circled for Insects and dove for heaven-knows-why, whirring down shiver-like and sudden toward the rooftops and into his dreams. Someday one would miss. The doorknob melted warm and silk in his grip. A hawk dove. The grains of sand in the cement between the bricks by the door sparkled facet fuddled in the moon. Someday one would miss. He would hear the splat and know the bird was over."

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