I laughed because Dad grew frustrated over the constant reappearance of a ceramic bowl filled with water in the washroom on the main floor. And there was always a metal spoon, sitting idly in the water, always. He brought it out once more to the kitchen sink to clean it. I didn’t tell him it was because of the honey of my honey mask that stuck to the bottom of the bowl.
I went into the living room and threw myself on the couch. I rested my right hand on the armrest, and examined my stubby fingers. How funny that they were there, and I could feel them. Feelings about fingers evaporate rather quickly however.
Night falls and the stars are like miniscule candy drops. The stubborn mosquito net separates my nose from outside, but the breeze surrounds me. It is a nice breeze, a fresh birth to autumn. The words swarm in my mind, but there is not enough art to connect them tonight.
I looked back at a few days ago, when I was lost in a building. I ran up to a young man asking for directions, and he graciously showed me the way to my destination. Maybe in another world where on that day the moon was a crescent and not full, the young man and I would have become great acquaintances.
But in this life I am left with a full moon and a ceramic bowl in the bathroom. The days melt so quickly. I’ll hold on to the laughter, as much as my stubby fingers will permit.