Waiting

You will sit down and beat the nagging pain in your sole. If not beat, then convince. You will need to convince that side of God’s temple that everything is okay. That the walking was okay. That tomorrow is a day too.
Then you will check your mail the nth time. A for apple, B for bulshit, n for number above 120. You will find a sticker blinking 3 new messages. Lord. Adrenalin. So you will debate with yourself whether to go to the inbox directly or wait till you do that prayer of yours. Yesterday you prayed and got dinner (from the landlord’s daughter herself). You used it in college and avoided the supplementaries on most occasions. But the devil that remover you from the holy garden is telling you to go on ahead and read the mails.
In haste, you will mention God’s name seven absent-minded times as you open the link. Internet is an ashkhole. Knows the right time to misbehave. The opera thing keeps rotating up there as if you are the one who killed Jesus. It rotates and keeps rotating after you refresh the link twice. Then, just as you want to check your data, it summasaults and backwardrolls and the inbox is there all open for you. Like any other of your species, you rush to open.
The first one is yahoo’s piece on David Trump. Okay, Donald, but who cares anyway? The fact that your mind can’t distinguish between David and Donald should send the right message to the Americans over there. A very insensitive breed.

Author: papawere

Just a man with a metallic horse and an umbrella.