Still automatically, she spits out the foam and flosses. Flossing is a very annoying activity for Yoshimi, one that she would pay somebody else to do it in her place if she could. 'Why am I feeling so strange?' She didn't know. Maybe it was the short story she had just read. No, it couldn't be it. It made her feel comfy inside, as if she were sinking into a deep leather armchair, next to a lit fireplace, holding a nice cup of tea in her pajamas. But she was actually laying in her bed in jeans.
Maybe it was the author's life? Yoshimi sometimes got curious about the strangest things; but it couldn't be the author's life. Or maybe it was that plus the events of the day. Maybe she was just trying to figure out life. The author had had a daughter and later in life had an affair with a woman who was younger than her. How do you know what you really are? Do you always know it? Or do you find that out later in life, when you have already used up half of your life time? What if you used your first half wrong, or not the way you wanted to have used it? 'You can't return or get a refund for misuse of your own life.'
'Oh shoot!' she cursed immediately after swallowing her mouthwash, and tried to spit it out. But she had already swallowed it. 'How did it happen again?', she thought, puzzled. Yoshimi tried to read the label of the mouthwash to check if her life was in risk. 'No, I'm good. I guess,' and she walked out of the bathroom, forgetting the light on while deciding that she would wait until she felt sick to seek for medical help (so said the label).
One more day down. Time for her tea, a few lines of her book (that she's been reading for one year now - she just read it in the few minutes before falling asleep) and her dreams of how she would come to work the next day and tell her boss what she really thought of him and walk out of the office, in midst of her co-workers' awe.
Copyright by Michelle Mocarski, on 5/5/2010
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