Wednesday April 2nd, 2014

The exercise:

Write something that has to do with: the expiry date.

Finally spent some time in the garden this afternoon, raking out and marking a section for peas and greens. The plan is to get those seeded tomorrow while Kat takes Max to his first ever eye appointment.

There's nothing we're overly concerned about, just one eye that might be a little weak. We figured it's better to get it looked at sooner than later though, just to be sure.

Speaking of Max, he finally got through a day today without getting hurt. He's not had the best of stretches lately: his neck got caught in his coat zipper on Sunday, he fell into a rose bush at Kat's parents place and sliced up his left hand on Monday, and he dropped a pot lid on his right big toe yesterday.

So it was a nice change getting him to bed tonight without any new injuries.

Mine:

The beach is crowded. Bodies glistening with sweat and suntan lotion lay side by side like sardines in a tin can. Noon is approaching on sluggish feet but no one seems to be in any rush to come back to the hotel for lunch.

I am not pleased to be here.

This is not my kind of scene. I prefer the dark and the cold. I like my space. Solitude brings me comfort, not colorful drinks festooned with ridiculous little umbrellas.

If I had any choice in the matter I would be elsewhere. Anywhere elsewhere. But I do not. The man I am searching for is here. I think.

He better be.

He has escaped me for much too long. His expiry date was so long ago that I should be able to smell his rotten stench from the oasis that is my air conditioned room. But I cannot. For whatever reason, I cannot.

This man has somehow discovered a secret that is not his to know. Disguises, illusions, smoke and mirrors. The game ends here, today, finally. This pursuit is over. He has avoided death for far too long.

And Death is not pleased.