It wasn’t that she wanted to smoke. It was that she kept being given cigarettes.
She had a dream that she wasn’t dreaming any more. And just like that it was over.
Hummmm, went the refrigerator. Indifferent, as always. One day, she would be free of all of this.
Or would she?
Never mind, there were things to do. And even if there weren’t, surely there were things to think up to keep her busy.
No, she would never be cheerful enough to be a writer for real.
It was a pregnant moment in between doing something earlier and having to be somewhere in just a little bit. It was hers, to do as she pleased. The sunlight shone into the room, warming her back. A chill of expectation almost haunted her. It was now.
She stayed longer than she’d planned, but it didn’t matter. She had nowhere to be, not just yet, anyway, and the pause was nice. She breathed deeply, chewed her lower lip lightly, and looked up into the face she’d so long sought for comfort. It wasn’t there, but she didn’t need it.
She was going to need something more eternal than this.
Bombs pour over people
While she sits in bed
And wondering whether to turn up
When did it become Tuesday?
He was looking for something, but he wasn’t sure what. Correction: It was fulfillment, obviously, but for now that lofty goal would come in the form of a spiced espresso drink from a place he’d never been before. The metallic light fixtures were off-putting, he felt, and the design magazines centered on the window sills overlooking the park seemed forced.
Still, it was someplace new. He could use that these days.
He’d been doing a lot of thinking.
Or, rather, he’d been doing a lot of being silent. He certainly looked like he was thinking. His brain felt more like a white noise meets radio static meets sci-fi transistor to talk to outer space. There was always something going on, but none of it made any sense. And none of it was important. He might as well have just gone to work anyway.
Why did he tell Sara he wanted to be on his own?
He thought about the afternoon. There is a scene in a movie he likes where the main character divides time into units: One unit for pool, two units for television. This strategy presumes he has masculine interests. Maybe he should engage in a masculine pursuit this afternoon. Staring stupidly at the green just outside was doing him no good.
He’d play basketball. Stop feeling sorry for himself. Change his career. New house. Why not?
He wasn’t sure when he started disappointing himself.
It was winter again already.
Holiday dresses: Green velvet with bows, presumably. A need to carry white gloves and gift boxes wrapped in colors that flatter only the red-haired.
Last year she had said too much to John, too little to Calvin. Interested in not repeating her mistakes, she redoubled her vows to let them both down easy.