FICTION FRIDAY
treading water
the kettle will boil as it is designed to do and i will make my tea the same way i have always made it: strong, letting it draw for a while, milk and two sugars. getting dressed for work and putting on my shoes left sock, right sock, left shoe, right shoe. then, this evening i will push the peas around my plate, pick them up with a forkful of mashed potato and a piece of cut sausage, dipped in tomato sauce. my routines are as habitual as liturgy. as is the pain i experience. you know pain. i know it constantly, intimately, permanently. and this i know, if i stop treading water, i’ll drown.
A Fullness in Brevity - Adam Byatt 