Third Person Blues

She stares at the screen, unsure of what to say. Words escape her, these days. She's escaped herself, too. Maybe she's in a notebook somewhere. Or, perhaps she's skulking around on this blog...somewhere, anywhere?

She can only hope she'll find herself sandwiched between the punctuation marks. Maybe she's in there indeed, adorned with ambiguous symbolism, but whole and intact nonetheless.

Queer, even the writer cannot find her! No amount of deconstruction can reveal what carefully placed ellipses disguise. The rules of the English language say that they will only ever be three dots...