No idea how long I’ve been going, it seems like forever already. And there’s no end in sight. All I can see looking down is darkness. I don’t want to turn around, I bet all I’ll see in that direction is darkness, too. Endless black, matching my mood.
Why am I here again?
Getting paid. I suppose we like money.
Oh yes, I like money. Keep thinking of payday. Keep going.
Do we like money that much, though?
I wonder if I’ll ever reach the bright future they promised me.
New flat; new (old) relationship status; promotion (the children live with your ex, there’s no need for you anymore to be home by dinner time); the upcoming trial of the other guy (which should end in a conviction because since you went to the police with the stalker photos he’d taken of the children, other women have come forward and testified to similar threats – this validates your decision to not be blackmailed into submission, even though you paid a high price for it).
And as of today, you’re on Tinder.
But be honest: you yearn for
When I grow up, I want to be a sunflower. I want to stand in one place and turn my face with the sun. I want to be tall and bright and make people smile.
Dad says sunflowers will have a better chance than us. But by the time I’ve grown up, even they may need too much water. And they don’t actually turn with the sun. Cacti grows tall, he says. I’ll get to see them soon as we’ll move again and this time, it’ll be the desert.
Cactus, sunflower – I’ll take it, as long as it has roots.
I’ve been wandering the beach by myself for hours, the sky overhead mirroring my gloomy mood. Dunno what made me look up but I’m glad I did. I’d have missed how the sunset lights up the houses otherwise. Stroke of luck, I suppose.
I’ve been walking to clear my head. I think I did but I don’t like these new thoughts that have popped up.
Then again, Tim and I’ve been going on holiday together for a decade. Isn’t it telling that I finally take a photo worth writing home about with the two of us out of the picture?
He was a lurker, they weren’t supposed to see him. But it’d been so long since anyone had reacted to his presence, he couldn’t help but wave back. The children smiled and hollered at him.
From that day on, he lurked closer to at the edge of visibility. At first, most hikers didn’t notice. But soon word spread.
He has become an attraction in his own right and he never disappoints his audience. At the first sign of a hand raised in greeting, the waving ghost of the creek fades into view and responds. He’s the local tourist office’s dream.
It’s been a while since my first MFtS catch-up story, hasn’t it? It didn’t turn out the way I wanted, but I’m writing with a massive headache today and that never leads to noteworthy prose.
I know texting you is a violation of the injunction, but I am almost literally on fire. I’m sitting in the bathtub, breathing through a wet washcloth. I called 999; I don’t think they’ll make it in time.
I never apologised. I wonder if I’d apologised, we’d be in this mess. I would still have hit you, though. I wish I hadn’t hit you. You should see me now – anger management has turned me into a new man. I wish you could have seen him.
So, I’m only texting to tell you that you’ve nothing to fear from me anymore.