It’s 5:30 AM and I don’t know why I stopped sleeping. The white paper I begin my moments with is full of objects, sounds, scenes, which probably has a lot to do with it. Typically I wake up blank, but for whatever reason everything is still here, replaying in parts, continuing to buzz and flow.
Things from yesterday. The 3-inch-thick stack of semi glossy papers John flipped through with his fingers before sliding everything into a plastic bag and taking it out to his car mid-shift.
“I just don’t want them to get rained on.”
How I noticeably took interest in the documents. How he purposely refrained from angling them in my direction.
“You could probably guess,” he threw somewhere in there, quickly but almost regretfully. I shot him a look that said ‘Yeah, like crap for your new job because I’m always right that you’re leaving and not telling anyone yet.’
“Don’t look at me like that.”