Thursday November 26th, 2015

The exercise:

Write about: the butcher.

Found a couple of interesting jobs to apply for today. So fingers crossed one of them works out!

And... more company tonight. I think he's getting a little too used to this routine. I'd been getting to bed earlier the last couple of nights but... not early enough tonight, it would seem.

Mine:

It is... difficult for me to function... normally these days. Retirement... does not agree with me. I think, perhaps, that I performed one job for too long. As hard as that is for me to accept.

Kids these days, they change jobs every month, it seems. Go back to school once a year, get all trained up to do something completely different... and tire of that, too. On to the next adventure!

Maybe that should have been my path, as well. The only problem with that, of course, is that I loved my work. Could never imagine myself doing anything else, really.

But now... my body has betrayed me. These once steady hands shake too much. These muscles, once like iron, have grown soft and weak. My mind, though... my mind... well.

It would be nice if my mind could let the past stay in the past. But it continues to see where things ought to be chopped, ought to be sliced. Only I no longer have slabs of meat on a cutting board on which to practice my art. No butcher shop in which to perform my work.

Instead I walk the streets. I sit in parks. People are everywhere. But my mind does not see men, women, children. It just sees meat... and it won't stop telling me where to chop, where to slice...