the perception of distance

by inotherwords

Summary:

distance = speed * time.

One jump and a life changes.

One call. Two words.

“Turn around.”

It has to be another disguise, a bloody good one. I will be rooting about in the fridge for milk, pushing aside jars and organs and perhaps I will sigh and he will pop in and ask me to fetch something from his pocket. (Reaching down is too much of an interruption. This is something I stopped arguing some time ago.)

Any time now.

I push the saucer back and forth and my leg shakes in unconscious anticipation.

The tea has gone cold.

Moving to the wingback, I tuck my knees in and steeple my fingers under my chin, wincing. Any further movement is a chore, and so I don’t.

The sky is a dark blue, bordering on black. Time passes.

Not enough time passes.

It’s then that I realise I always thought I followed too closely.

Now it’s evident that I was never close enough.