Jelly Doesn’t Have To

I sit on the carpet contemplating the cold seeping into my backside from the rock underneath the floorboards. There’s a hole in my jeans where part of me runs up against another part. I’ll have to watch for that otherwise that’ll be another pair ruined just because of a small hole in an unsuitable place.

I breath through my nostrils.

The toes on my right foot feel warm because they’re tucked in behind the knee of my left leg. Cross-legged is the only way to go when you’re sat on a carpet in the kitchen. Any other way feels too much like relaxing and a kitchen floor is hardly the place to relax.

I listen for my heart beating.

The fridge always did make a noise, whether it was the old one that got frosted up all the time and had to be defrosted with the wife’s hairdryer or the new, frost-free version. When the monitor for the smart meter was working it showed that the fridge uses the most electricity in the night. Maybe we should put all the groceries outside and turn the fridge off.

I watch my thoughts.

Mary at the end of the road wished me a Happy New Year the other day. She wished me a Happy New Year last week too. She thanked me both times when I wished her the same. Her husband doesn’t talk as much as he used to. He seems a little down to be honest. His next door neighbour, Alex has been lonely since his wife died of conditions relating to Alzheimer’s disease.

I breathe peace into my mind.

Peace sign fingers. Fish fingers. Cod. Sea. Deep blue something. Swim down. Light headed. Lighter balloon. Drift up. Further. Into space. Silence. Awe.

I breathe words out of my mind.


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