pink dog

Her fingers played  with some pink post-it notes on her desk. She kept sticking their tales to one another. A blue pencil rolled away, nearly falling from the edge of the desk. She caught it right away.

The sigh she let hover around in her chest escaped. So bored.  Still… She felt exhausted. The ashtray was empty. She looked at it. Not a smoker, remember? …No. She did not remember. She was a supposed nonsmoker. Now she wondered if her guess was right. The truth was – she could not remember. At all.

That is the definition of amnesia, she told herself. So tired and annoyed by it all. The watch on the wall showed that the doctor was late. Already five minutes. She hated it when people were late. Something recoiled in her stomach. Enough waiting.

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ink on ash

ink on ash

The school yard was going to be a graveyard.

Preparations took two whole days, and  a couple of men had been hired to empty the library.

I watched them slowly pile up manuals, maps and books. Considering the size of that heap, it was going to be an impressing fire. The library must be empty by now… I sat in my classroom, staring out of the window, observing the coming and going. Men throwing books across the yard, smoking, drinking alcohol.

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“I’m  more conductive, than other humans.“ The words bounce off my ears, spoken with the voice of a middle aged woman.

What was that? I look up puzzled.  The book in my lap is sitting tightly. The passenger in the seat opposite to me stares right into my face. It could have been her speaking… She says nothing more…  Awkward silence.  No context. No nothing – just staring…

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