on the phone to my brother I walk through the supermarket and look for food I don’t need. I forget to respect the sanctity of public spaces and update him on my health and what the doctor said. it feels small and insignificant to me and on reflection I find it strange that it should mean more than facts and figures. he tells me he wishes we could live together and it’s funny because we did for so many years without really understanding how lucky we were. I think of his lens and how he sees the world around him and wish it was at least a little less like mine. I buy cashews I’ll floss out of the corners of my teeth whenever I remember they’re in the cupboard.
they asked me to take the day off. I woke before the keys of the alarm and made myself run. along the way - just past the point I cross the eight lane road by the park - I pass a van obstructing the path, dents on the side and an uprooted steel fence crushing the front. a woman sits at the foot of the scene. she wears a beige cardigan and listens to a police officer leaning in her direction. I catch a glimpse of the eye not covered by the hand holding her head and feel ashamed. I can see her problem and run. I wonder what she’s feeling and if she has the money to cover the damages. she watches me pass and the cop keeps talking.
my eyes are heavy and I fill empty hours with none of what I told myself I’d do had I the time so spend. the laundry dried in record time and everything is clean.
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