the work waits for me like a dog that has me tamed. tasks bookend every moment spent on anything else. I wake to push the boulder through gritted teeth, knowing well how much heavier it could be. the day moves without the sun, which never makes it through the window by my desk. outside the clouds are in the way. they hang distant and blurred on the edges of my focus as I press the keys to fill the boxes on the screen. the sky is grey and I don’t think all day. my washing dries just fine.
my brother says he saw me in a nightmare. last night he dreamt I did something I shouldn’t and he’s worried about what it means. I dreamt of school and the clarity of knowing where I’m meant to go. without warning my phone flashes reminders of the last time I performed before it was time to grow up. like most of the once familiar faces in the photos, the boy in the baggy blue shirt is a stranger to me, though we share the same name and vital organs. he gave everything to try to understand his role and how to tell that story. eight years sit between us now. I wonder what he’d think of how we’ve spent the time and what we’ve done with all his dreams.
I leave the house to buy the medicine I take to wake up and greet tomorrow’s boulder. on my phone I read about another day of innocent deaths in their hundreds. I shake my head at my greed and wonder why safety is never enough for me. at the counter they ask if I would like a receipt. I tell them I’m okay and thank them for their help.
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