It took Miss Lonelyhearts three weeks to figure out what really happened.
Miss Lonelyhearts realized that when the cripple was trying to drag out his gun from the package, he was still hugging him. Then he heard a deafening “bang” and he felt sudden warmth on his belly. Then the memory became fragments.
He remembered there was a moment that the world was spinning; there was another that he saw his left arm being risen; and then there was total whiteness. Then darkness came.
He tried hard to search for his rock–the one that was thoroughly tested and perfect. It was there. And he was relieved. As long as his conscience, his sense of reality, his self-knowledge were still, he didn’t care about anything else. However, this time it was different.
The rock was gone. Then back. Then it started trembling. Then it changed colors. Then gone again.
His faith started to shake. After all the struggles and apprehensions he had experienced, he thought he was ready for a reincarnation as a phoenix, and he truly saw the rock was there, but it was no more.
The darkness was worsened. The space was squeezed. Miss Lonelyhearts saw the fence Desperate taking off her clothes and climbing on him, and he can feel her no-nose face getting closer. He struggled away and bumped the Broken-hearted in the darkness, whose little sister’s laughter was right beside him, moistening his right ear. And he touched a belly. It was the Disillusioned-with-tubercular-husband’s.
Miss Lonelyhearts wanted to get his rock back.
He started to scream. He didn’t hear his own scream.
In a local hospital, Betty held Miss Lonelyhearts’s pale hands, the cardiac pacemaker’s beeping constantly. Suddenly he had a convulsion.
The beeping became monotonic.