Faulty wiring

Faulty wiring.

I used my blue pen today. It was hot in the room. Got up late. As soon as I opened my eyes, she was in my head. And so was the knowing that that’s as close as she’d ever be to me again.

Just missed the breakfast menu. Had to have a burger, fries and a coffee. Rented a car over the weekend. It was due back by noon. My dirty laundry was over flowing. I had to hustle not to get charged another day for the car. I had already paid too many days. Too many.

It was a busy Monday. All the machines were full. I had to wait. As I did, the burger and coffee churned in my belly like a cat in an empty pillow case. There was a sloppily dressed Armenian woman with a small white, fluffy dog that had six machines all tied up. She stuffed a doggy bed in one of them and in another an old furry bath mat. Following her, my dark clothes would have dog and bath mat clung to them. It was thoughtless of the Armenian. But then it was also thoughtless of me to push and take as I had everywhere else in life outside of that laundry mat.

They didn’t charge me any extra for returning the car a little late. All my socks I left home with, returned all complete pairs. I tied them together in floppy knots like two worn-out Muppets shaking hands. The room was still hot. I turned on the air, pulled up a chair to sit in the cool. I flipped the radio and the music played. My laundry was once again clean, folded and put in its proper places. The room was cooling down. The curtains remained closed. I needed the dark. I’d need it for as long as she’s everywhere that the light would shine.

I sat in that chair till the day was spent and the night returned. In between, there was lots of beer and tequila. It was a long day. I hoped that the night would be longer. I hoped for what I knew I’d never have again.


About magnumturtle

I write fiction.
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