fever.

One

A black and white arrow with a red beak landed next to my head and started whispering into my ear. In line with my custom of general restraint, I let it happen, and did not react instantly, even though I may have been startled. I do not recall now. My companion turned to me in mild disbelief, his eyes and mouth widened and he took a step back. He may have forgotten to breathe for just a moment, but found his bearings back fast. The oystercatcher told me everything I needed to know for the present. As my being became clear, I realised I had not been at my best all my life. I learn to read all over, letters dancing without connection in front of my sliding-halting fingers.

Two

As I swung with the rhythms of conversations in human intricacy and noisy leather, I never managed to leave the thought of you behind entirely. As a ripple in an ever-expanding circle, you unknowingly proved all laws of thermodynamics strangely outdated. Heather honey brought us from one continent to the next as your voice travelled over from the other room. I missed you suddenly even though we have never been close. Our avoidance rituals were telling me to let go of the thought of mutuality. Still you turn my head in silence.

Three

The linen was rare green, but it felt and smelled like that week could last forever. Of course it did not, but for a moment it felt comforting to be caught in arrest. I touched the linen and it tore my skin. We spent the afternoon busying ourselves with asking the wrong questions and making conversation. We never took the turn to get off anxiety pills and expose make-believe contentment as fear. You waved and disappeared from view. I longed for the oystercatcher song. I ran across wet tarmac and thought I was stepping on many tombs and shards of glass. I laugh it off.