Call me when it all goes south she said.
So I race to the last street with a standing payphone and dial the number on a creased brown paper. Tears by now have made wells off my eyelids and they intend on dancing as they stroll down my cheeks.
Is this pain that I am feeling?
Gloom hangs over my face as my inner critic makes her cold case. See. I told you. And now here we are waiting on your weakling self to ask for help... tell me how any of what we go through should be among her worries. Put the phone down before she picks.
The dial tone asks if I am ready.
I can feel my remaining nauseated pride sighing with disappointment at my audacious spirit to stay on the phone for a few more seconds. The receiver resting nervously on my ear gains weight and I picture myself giving in to the idea of walking my demons back home.
Then.
Softness claims my sense of hearing and my blood rushes through my entireness. I am enveloped by the peace sunk in her welcoming hello and how nice to hear from you. I swear her voice feels like my long lost home. Is this me walking back home?
Heavy breathing.
Speak she says. You have my time and ears. Share your emotional burdens and let me help with your agony. Have you eaten something? Is your heart well I wonder. My thoughts of you have been long. I have been asking myself if you have been keeping that promise of remembering to smile even for a second...
And I smile sheeply.
Would you let me speak, I ask in a calmer voice than I was expecting. You can't be out here bombarding me with questions and you won't even let me answer any of them. Woman, breath. I tell myself while teasing her. I take a deep breath.
She giggles.
And sneaks some you worry me at times in between her giggles. I can feel her smile. And an instant thought tells me I shouldn't ruin it. And I find myself diverting from sharing my pain to...
One hour later.
Let's just say I am walking now calm demons back home.
wambuku w.
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