Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Insomniac, Part 25

Harold looked for his keys. They weren't on the kitchen counter where he usually dropped them. His wallet was there. He picked it up absently and slipped it into his back pocket. You never knew when you might need to be identified. The fall. He had never thought that way before the fall.

He wished he had a beeper or a ringtone on his keys so he could call them and hear where he'd left them. He walked back through the kitchen again, through the living room, up the stairs, into his room, into his bathroom and finally found them lying on the edge of the tub next to the soap.


Harold picked up his keys, put them into his pocket, then stared at the floor where he had woken, naked, with faces of strangers staring down at him. He didn't walk into his bathroom without thinking of it. The embarrassment was almost worse than the pain had been. Almost.

The dog came into the bathroom, panted a little, stared with intent into Harold's eyes, then laid down on the tiles with his head on Harold's feet and then he sighed. Oh the drama. His meaning was obvious. What happened to the promise of a walk? he seemed to say.

"Alright, already. I'm coming," Harold said. Did other people talk to their dogs as if they were people? His name popped into Harold's head after having been missing for a few days. Henry. What a stupid name for a dog, Harold thought. Poor Henry.

Thank you for listening, jules

No comments:

Post a Comment