Little Boxes

Sunday 2nd of June 2019

Walking through the dark, arms held out at my sides, fingers brushing the narrow walls.

A flicker of light, a match being struck. It moves to the wick of a long candle suspended in nothing, and lights it.

Five little white boxes sit on a table around the candle.

“Can you fill the boxes?” Luna-Rose says. “There are five boxes here, five more behind that door, five more behind that, but to start with, can you fill these boxes, once a day, every day?”

She points to the boxes. “This box is family, this one friendship, this box, frivolity, this mental exercise, and this one physical exercise. Can you fill them, once a day, every day?”

I’m starting to see age in my face, lines around the eyes, a drooping, a sort of relaxing that’s making me tense. It’s showing me time and it feels like I’m running out of it. I’m scared of aging, I’m scared of being alone and old. I’ve seen too clearly what age does to a body.

“Do you ever feel like if you could unzip your body and step out of your skin, you would be completely yourself?” I ask her.

“Several times a day.” She replies.

‘The Murder of Miss O’ a novella, that people can purchase…