Kimonos in the Closet

The Man Who Made the Minotaur Up

23 The Man Who Made the Minotaur Up It’s likely he did not have the head of a bull. Though perhaps he was assertive in his own right and had the tendency to get lost in the labyrinth of his mind. Perhaps he failed to bathe regularly and thus his odor announced his arrival as livestock tend to do. The rest you would not anticipate. His long white hair. His limp. His twisted cane. If you came to visit, he’d keep you waiting so long you’d set to wandering about his house. Then he’d come hobbling down the corridor. From a distance he might even seem bulbous and filled with rage. Huffing and snorting and stomping at the floor. As he drew closer you’d see all that heft was just the blankets he’d wrapped around his frail body to stay warm. The stomping came from the cane he planted with each step to keep from falling down. And what seemed like the bellowing of some monster was only him coughing and wheezing after sitting by an open window too long. ...