I was sitting in my kitchen. I love my kitchen. It's a ridiculous Pepto Bismol pink, and there are Mexican tiles, and there are purple scented stocks that have lasted over a week now, and there is always music on. Sometimes there is a cat. There is one of the many Chartier menus, collected over a lifetime, in a frame. There is Marilyn and Hockney and fairy lights and a money plant. There are books (always) and there are gold nipple tassels hanging on the wall.
I was sitting in my kitchen and I was thinking about a person I haven't seen in a while now, not for a few months. Nearly half a year now, in fact. A person I miss, who is (I think) far away (doesn't anybody stay in one place any more?).
I was sitting in my kitchen, and I was thinking about this person, and The Breeders came on the radio. I love The Breeders.
"I wanna see you,
You don't know how much I miss you.
I may be high.
I may hide and run out at you.
You don't know how much I miss you."
Then there was a knock on the door. It was a parcel. For one crazy moment, I thought it was a sign, and it might be from this person. It's my birthday soon. But it wasn't. Of course it wasn't.
Then a cat came and sat on me. Then the song on the radio changed. Then I got on with my writing.