Saturday, 15 October 2011
She didn’t even want to begin to speculate how many tubes of toothpaste she had tried to squeeze the very last, itty bitty minty whiteness out of, having forgotten to buy new supply. She was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, grimacing at her reflection with the faint red line of pillow crease running across her left cheek. It was her birthday at the end of the week, a few friends were coming for dinner, she’d better do the shopping list soon.
In the kitchen a quick cup of tea, some buttered toast, the last uncontaminated slice, the rest had grown mouldy overnight. She left the house; far too late; again. Ran down the street, to the station. “Here we go,” she thought, “Monday morning, how I love thee.” There was a bit of wind, the last few leaves would soon be chased along the pavement, trodden on, drowning in a sad dirty puddle. City leaves had really pulled the short straw, she thought, unless you count the ones in the park. Much better to be a country leaf. Although. Who knows.
The girl on the train pulled off her poppy red beret, pushed it into her bag and took out a book. She had wrapped it into a sleeve made from newspaper. “Must be rubbing ink onto her fingers,” she thought. Were there people who didn’t analyse everything they saw? Who just zoned out? Perhaps she should try doing that.
How she hated the train. Tomorrow she’d take the bus. Or a duvet day. She was washed onto the platform and up the elevator. Thinking about the meeting already. Perhaps she should come out with her idea at the very end. Or perhaps she should just leave. Run a farm. Buy a few chickens, and a goat. She rummaged in her bag for a biro and a post-it. Scribbled “toothpaste”, “bread”. Pushed everything back into the bag. Went through the doors.
“Here we go”, she thought.
wind // love // poppy red // bread // tea
thank you, maria