Ten.Seven Hundred & Sixty-Five
I lay on the floor in the closet and close my eyes. I could go back to sleep. But I can’t. Not right now.
The bedroom light is on but I know they’re still sleeping.
Morning fog drifting slowly, revealing pale blue sky. It will be hot again today. Humid again too. The plants look heavy.
Twenty minutes. But I think I dropped him off too early.
Not Toni Morrison. “In a way, her strangeness, her naiveté, her craving for the other half of her equation was the consequence of an idle imagination. Had she paints, or clay, or knew the discipline of the dance, or strings, had she anything to engage her tremendous curiosity and her gift for metaphor, she might have exchanged the restlessness and preoccupation with whim for an activity that provided her with all she yearned for. And like an artist with no art form, she became dangerous.” - Sula
So sick. I feel my stomach turn, my head pounding. Maybe it’s because I only had two handfuls of blueberries for breakfast. I have him get me the water crackers. I put my head between my legs.
I lay down and close my eyes, stuff a few more crackers into my mouth.
We go to Best Buy like I promised. He picks the blue controller, pulls the money from his envelope. I cover the 7 cents. He will probably want to sleep with it.
I text her a picture of the clothes spread out on the floor. I remember that I’ll see her in two months. Not just her, but Julie too. And JJ in September. And Dad in October. The next few months are going to be good.
Orange-pink cottony clouds against a cerulean sky. Palm trees waving in the evening breeze. The feeling that everything will be okay.