Sometimes I picture exploding. Literally and figuratively. Hearing John say something on the phone to his sister / wife
/ mother, I just want to throw things at him. I never would because I know I’m just neurotic and can’t
stand minor imperfections in other people. It’s not always their fault.
But I’ll picture it. The
first thing within reach and usually already in my hand is my mouse. I feel better when I fantasize about
chucking it at him because I know its cord won’t reach that far. I’d let go and it would fly toward
him. It’s close enough where it
would definitely scare him. But
then the cord would pull taught and the mouse would fall, swinging under his
desk and coming to a stop before he picked it up and handed it back to me after
hanging up the phone.
I think it’s my turn for a vacation.
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