WILL THOMAS
“In my hands lay my eleventh finger.”
My story, in which a seemingly respectable yet jarringly obsessive businessman reveals the darker side of his mind, is a comment on consumerism inspired by the monotony of the everyday in the work of Murakami.The way the protagonist only uses synecdoche to describe himself gives his pristine presentation a ghostly quality, reflecting the fragility and intangibility of this façade.The fact that the only mention of any tangible part of him comes when his psychotic nature is revealed in the final paragraph, where we see his hands, suggests that his original description was indeed a fabrication and his elaborate lifestyle nothing more than an illusion, overridden by the horrors of reality..
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