This morning is 9 AM pizza and coffee. I am currently awaiting a meeting that I have been both anticipating and fearing since about 4 PM on Friday. These ambush meetings are the worst, at times. Hopefully they will involve an element of the best. Only time (90 minutes and counting) will tell.
While I wait, I listen to the sounds of planes overhead. I learn the creaks and pounds of an apartment I do not live in, empty but for me, my coffee, my nerves.
(I pause to turn on a lamp. There's no need to behave like an actual intruder. I have been invited here, after all.)
Last night I went to temporarily replace the scarf I left at a dear friend's house who lives 61.8 miles away. It won't actually replace the scarf, but will act as a soft and decent stand in for the next few weeks.
(pause)
I know that you read me as the responsible one in this. That my mystery is all in your head. That everyone's excitement and quixotic tales are in the past. That's not the case with me. I know you sense this, and I know it turns your stomach into an apple'd, acidic mess.
I hide my undoings well. I wash and obscure the scent of these tales off of my arms, my neck, my chest before entering the room. You compliment the spice of my cologne. And when our eyes meet, you dare yourself to read as much of me as you can, through them.
be well; be loved,
k.
(photo via trashy princes tumblr)
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