A better cold day
Here I am writing again. Can't you tell I am working really hard on my papers?
Tonight was a bit more chilly in the apartment. Wearing normally what I would have on was not enough. I pulled a sweater over my head, sat down in front of my desk, hands on the keyboard, dried eyes on the bleak white screen, words flowing in and out of my mind, but my fingers could barely type. My head hurt. Stiffness accompanied by a dull ache ran down my spine from the neck. My body was craving rest. The entire system was calling desperately for a break.
I was sitting on the loo, staring at the bathtub I scrubbed a few days back, when I recalled an early experience in America.
It was chilly, like today, in the bathroom at my old apartment. Hot steam saturated the air. I began to suffocate. I looked up toward the ceiling, in attempt to avoid a rush of rising vapor, just trying to breathe. My eyes shut. I blacked out. When my eyes opened again, I was almost frozen to death. The water was cold, my lower back was in pain. Droplets trembled down my body, I was shivering mad. Down the stream between my legs was a streak of blood. I managed to turn the water off, climbed out of the tub, wrapped myself up, stumbled my way into the bedroom, and passed out on the bed. Next thing I knew, the apartment was dark, and there wasn't a single bit of sound except drippings coming from the bathroom. Still soaked inside my cold towel, I got up. Cleaned up the crime scene as if nothing ever happened. I went back into my somber room, and cried myself to sleep.
Today was better day. Was it not?
Tonight was a bit more chilly in the apartment. Wearing normally what I would have on was not enough. I pulled a sweater over my head, sat down in front of my desk, hands on the keyboard, dried eyes on the bleak white screen, words flowing in and out of my mind, but my fingers could barely type. My head hurt. Stiffness accompanied by a dull ache ran down my spine from the neck. My body was craving rest. The entire system was calling desperately for a break.
I was sitting on the loo, staring at the bathtub I scrubbed a few days back, when I recalled an early experience in America.
It was chilly, like today, in the bathroom at my old apartment. Hot steam saturated the air. I began to suffocate. I looked up toward the ceiling, in attempt to avoid a rush of rising vapor, just trying to breathe. My eyes shut. I blacked out. When my eyes opened again, I was almost frozen to death. The water was cold, my lower back was in pain. Droplets trembled down my body, I was shivering mad. Down the stream between my legs was a streak of blood. I managed to turn the water off, climbed out of the tub, wrapped myself up, stumbled my way into the bedroom, and passed out on the bed. Next thing I knew, the apartment was dark, and there wasn't a single bit of sound except drippings coming from the bathroom. Still soaked inside my cold towel, I got up. Cleaned up the crime scene as if nothing ever happened. I went back into my somber room, and cried myself to sleep.
Today was better day. Was it not?
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