What I did today, I say when he asks, is I scoured the internet for ironing tips. I laugh. He laughs.
We tear the plastic pouches of soy sauce, using fingers to pop the fish and rice convenience into our mouths. We swat the naked bottoms of our children when they run laughing from the bath, and we kick the toys under the sofa to ignore them. The wind is blowing outside, and I wonder if maybe I’m meant to be out there. There’s a thing inside of me that moves like a snake. It hisses and lurches and crawls into dark spaces to lie in wait.
I put her toothbrush back into the cup where it belongs, and I run the washcloth over the sink before tossing it into the hamper. With a sigh, I fold myself onto the sofa. He reaches for the remote.
The light changes from artificial, overhead bulb to artificial glow from the box in front of us. The wind is still blowing outside, and I imagine we’re refugees from the future, surreptitiously plugging into this machine to recharge.
I imagine I’m protesting, wild in the streets of Egypt. I remember being nineteen, studying literature, replacing food with poetry. I remember that it felt like freedom to weigh nothing at all but for the contents of my head.
I run my thumb down the tattoo on the side of his neck and then follow that trail with my tongue. I remember how the bricks scraped my skin raw that time we fucked outside the bar, but mostly I remember what the sky looked like—how I couldn’t tell where the smoke ended and the clouds began.
Some people call it dirty, like there isn’t more shame in Googling ironing tips.
There’s nothing new in this world, and when I breathe, I know I’m supposed to be grateful that the air I’m breathing is more cloud than smoke. But the truth is I’d sell it all for the smoke.
Nicely done. I particularly liked this passage: "The wind is blowing outside, and I wonder if maybe I’m meant to be out there. There’s a thing inside of me that moves like a snake." Very evocative of the kind of vague discontent that permeates the piece.
ReplyDelete"Some people call it dirty, like there isn’t more shame in Googling ironing tips."... so funny.
ReplyDeleteWe know what we're supposed to do with our lives and then sometimes resent it for feeling unfulfilled. But it sounds like she tried to keep some spice.
This is wonderful. Such an accurate and evocative description of this state of mind (that I often feel myself in). Wish I could read more from you!
ReplyDeleteThis was such a welcoming, different read. Like reading an excerpt from a real, good book. Exceptional writing.
ReplyDeleteGorgeous.
ReplyDeleteWow! The mood you set is dense and wonderful. Excellent writing.
ReplyDeleteNostalgia, we might think to sell our souls to get it back.. Great piece.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much for reading and commenting. I really enjoyed participating in the Trifecta challenge. Hope to come back again.
ReplyDeleteThis is excellent, particularly these sections:
ReplyDelete"maybe I’m meant to be out there. There’s a thing inside of me that moves like a snake. It hisses and lurches and crawls into dark spaces to lie in wait."
"With a sigh, I fold myself onto the sofa."
"I imagine we’re refugees from the future, surreptitiously plugging into this machine to recharge."
"I remember being nineteen, studying literature, replacing food with poetry. I remember that it felt like freedom to weigh nothing at all but for the contents of my head."
"Some people call it dirty, like there isn’t more shame in Googling ironing tips." ... Amen to that!!! Shame on people who iron. It's a disgusting habit.
"There’s nothing new in this world, and when I breathe ... the truth is I’d sell it all for the smoke."
I LOVED this piece.