1 post tagged “le moribond!”

i unzipped the pouch strapped around my waist underneath my sweater and dug past tissues and receipts to produce my prescription, the woman behind the counter stifled her impatience and took a moment to make sense of my doctor's handwriting. she told me fifteen minutes and turned away. i walked out the way i came, all the bottles and boxes of hair dye and nail polish smiled at me under the fluorescent lights but the magazine girl kept reading.

i turned left outside the pharmacy and passed a lingerie shop with mannequins and kept walking. there was a bookshop which i thought about going into but i didn't. i remember i used to read a lot but i don't remember when i stopped. i still haven't read all the books on my shelves, and i never know where to start in places like these. i can't seem to justify choosing one book over any of the others. i look at the thickness of a book and i think this will take me a week or three weeks or a few months to read, and i can't seem to bring myself to buy it anymore. i read slower these days, too. i find i lose track of myself so easily...

i sat down in the bakery next door, i waited for a while looking at the sun coming through the glass front of the shop. it was warm on my hands and my face, but i could not feel it on my arms through my jumper. a waitress came and took my order and i sat watching people walking backwards and forwards and in and out of the shop. i examined a purple lesion i hadn't noticed before on the back of my hand. i stretched my legs out slightly, they were sore and stiff from the walking. i lifted my feet to lock my knees and found i ould only hold them there for a few seconds before my muscles shuddered and gave way.

a girl came with a cup of coffee which jittered in its saucer as i reached up to accept it and lowered it to the table. i took two sugars from the bowl with a trembling spoon. stirring, i watched as a light rain swept onto the road, nothing more than a fine drizzle, like sand scattered to the wind and falling to earth. the cars and the air suddenly dazzled and shone and were hard to look at.

i lifted my cup to take a sip and realised my coffee was finished. the rain had passed outside and dim clouds had replaced the sun. looking around i saw i didn't recognise anybody in the bakery. i suddenly felt very scared, the dregs of my coffee were cold and my back hurt as if i had been sitting for a long time. i missed home and i got up and payed for my coffee before walking outside. the air was colder and it was approaching midday, i waited on an uncomfortable bench watching a newspaper stir and flutter across the pavement. later a tram arrived and i got on board and found a seat next to a window.

on the tram there was a mother with three kids. the youngest was asleep, cradled in the woman's lap and beathing softly. the next was a little boy who ran up and down the tram tripping as it sped up and slowed and turned corners. he would squeal with joy as he tumbled to his knees and as he clambered back to his feet he would shout happily and incoherently at the passengers before running off. the third child looked a few years older than the boy, a daughter in a pink dress with a plastic dolly and hair in a neat ponytail. she sat next to her mother and affected a prim expression of annoyance and disapproval at her brother's antics.

the tram reached the top of the street and peeled away down a main road and shops gave way to houses. i saw, piled on a nature strip, a set of old speakers and a record player, all recently soaked by the rain. i watched the orthodox jews walking in groups. i stood and pulled the cord above my head and held on as the tram slowed to a stop. i made my way unsteadily down the steps and walked off the road and down the street, three houses down to my apartment block. i fumbled for my key and got inside.

my living room was quiet. i put the kettle on and settled into my arm chair. i could hear my breathing and the rising tone of the water bubbling. i thought about the warmth of the bakery, the bustle of the street. i thought about lingerie. my book shelf stood against the wall, seeming to cast a shadow. the kettle peaked and clicked off. i remembered my prescription at the pharmacy.

getting up, i put on an extra jumper and made my way to the door.