I wonder if one day I will look

back on this day.

These days.

An insignificant Monday

sitting on the floor cross-legged.

A bowl of vegetables in my lap.

Waiting.

For the sunset.

Or maybe something bigger.

Drinking wine from a glass that says Jess on it.

As if I would mistake my glass for

someone else’s.

I won’t. I drink alone.

I wonder if I will remember

these days

as those days.

Those waiting days.

I’m in a weird mood today.

I think it’s this time of year.

Or month.

My phone does say tomorrow is a

“probable period day”.

Or maybe it’s just this weather.

This stifling heat.

It clings desperately.

It does not want me to drink alone. I am restless.

And the clouds roll up and down the mountain.

Even they don’t know

what to do with themselves.

The air is so thick. And stagnant.

Expectant.

Like it too

is waiting for something

bigger.

Thunder perhaps.

Or maybe just a sunset.