Kissing Napkins
August 21st, 2006
the bells on my flipflops tinkle with each step i take through the quiet bookshop. the smell of aromatherapy incense clouds my head and leaves me feeling drunk. i remember the afternoon before - small talk over oysters ‘n lemon slices, laughs over shrimp risotto, careful insinuations over iced coffee. i’ve not been well since. and i still have yet to get over this need to crawl into a small space.
i had a weird dream last night. there was USD 1000 involved, guilty faces and racism. the dream before that was about you. i cant remember what exactly it was about, it’s all so hazy now, but i do remember waking up with a start and thinking how it is absolutely important that i tell you about this dream. all about it.
“er, we’ll catch up later,” i said to her nervously. a look of realization comes across her face. wrong realization, lady.
today we were playing the “deepest secrets” game, where you anonymously write your secrets on a slip of paper and put it in the box, and each person picks one out at random, reads it, and attempts to guess whose secret it is. there was this one slip of paper that said, i always feel unhappy and alone. i thought it was infinitely sad in its brevity and its secrecy, compared to stupid tall tales of how people were caught having sex or farting in a room full of people and blaming it on another. but when it was read out, people were very dismissive because it wasnt a funny secret. i stood there behind the box, thinking, but secrets arent meant to be funny.
the sounds of the bells on my flipflops feels like an underlying element to the reality of the past 10 minutes. this place is too quiet and i feel like i am intruding. turqoise skirts and noisy slippers dont belong here. i step out of the bookstore feeling slightly choked.
Entry Filed under: Musings, Unsent Letters
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