MEMORY EATER:
Coffee, two cigarettes, eighteen years old:
I’ve never liked coffee before, but it seems that everyone here drinks it. I pick up one of the anonymous plastic mugs that were brought up from the kitchen and fill it with the hot pitcher of coffee (is it real coffee? No one knows for sure). I go and wait in line.
The reinforced glass windows of the door let us know who may come in and who must always stay. When Carlos takes us out, jangling his keys, he holds the door for me and smiles. He likes thinking that he’s doing me a favor, giving me moments of attention. In the elevator I strain my neck upwards and shut my eyes. It seems such a long time untill we are released into the winter air.
I’ve brought my cup of coffee with me from upstairs. I am awarded two cigarettes for my innate propriety. I do not yell or bicker; I am a docile lamb. I light my first cigarette with the aftertaste of cheap coffee still on my tongue. This must be what freedom is like, I think. The air bites through our layers of thin hospital fabric. With her coffee and Newport, Andrea mutters next to me. She’s positive that the woman who just past by us used to work with her in the police force. Carlos catches her arm before she is able to do anything embarassing like asking her about it.
Sometimes, on the weekends, they take us on walks. We walk down to the CVS on Longwood Ave. and pretend to shop. Every time we go, Andrea collects fifty billion items and brings them up to the counter. She spills out various credit cards, none of which work, and Carlos shakes his head again and mutters to himself. I like how he pretends it’s so important, our mishaps. I like how he tries to make us feel responsibly at fault.
One time at CVS, I actually had some money. I had five dollars and spent it on bobby pins for my hair. I pinned my bangs back to show off my forehead, my eyes were big and young. Carlos and Bill both told me I looked nice and my heart broke open with gratitude. When I looked out the windows, the space before my vision was vast and hairless. The overcast shuddered into my limbs, the ash of my heart.
I’ve never liked coffee before, but it seems that everyone here drinks it. I pick up one of the anonymous plastic mugs that were brought up from the kitchen and fill it with the hot pitcher of coffee (is it real coffee? No one knows for sure). I go and wait in line.
The reinforced glass windows of the door let us know who may come in and who must always stay. When Carlos takes us out, jangling his keys, he holds the door for me and smiles. He likes thinking that he’s doing me a favor, giving me moments of attention. In the elevator I strain my neck upwards and shut my eyes. It seems such a long time untill we are released into the winter air.
I’ve brought my cup of coffee with me from upstairs. I am awarded two cigarettes for my innate propriety. I do not yell or bicker; I am a docile lamb. I light my first cigarette with the aftertaste of cheap coffee still on my tongue. This must be what freedom is like, I think. The air bites through our layers of thin hospital fabric. With her coffee and Newport, Andrea mutters next to me. She’s positive that the woman who just past by us used to work with her in the police force. Carlos catches her arm before she is able to do anything embarassing like asking her about it.
Sometimes, on the weekends, they take us on walks. We walk down to the CVS on Longwood Ave. and pretend to shop. Every time we go, Andrea collects fifty billion items and brings them up to the counter. She spills out various credit cards, none of which work, and Carlos shakes his head again and mutters to himself. I like how he pretends it’s so important, our mishaps. I like how he tries to make us feel responsibly at fault.
One time at CVS, I actually had some money. I had five dollars and spent it on bobby pins for my hair. I pinned my bangs back to show off my forehead, my eyes were big and young. Carlos and Bill both told me I looked nice and my heart broke open with gratitude. When I looked out the windows, the space before my vision was vast and hairless. The overcast shuddered into my limbs, the ash of my heart.
posted by emit's calendar at 1:56 PM
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