What will he say when he remembers this time?
Smooth and round the disc fits in my palm, the perfect spot to rub my thumb over. It soothes my tactile self.
I watched her disarm a bomb.
Angry words spoken,
with fingers in personal space.
Start. Fail. Restart, get a little further. Fail.
Rumour has it you’re gone.
What do I make of it?
I breathe I breathe. In and out, long, extended inhales, purpose-filled exhales, meant to centre and restore focus in the chaos. I breathe. The rhythm matches the music in my ears. My lungs using muscle memory and auditory stimulation to allow my focus to explore my present work. I gasp, forgetting to breathe amidst the … Continue reading I breathe…