Passing days

By Nicole Renee

Rays of sun cast themselves through the ceiling-less stone skeleton structure of which I'm taking refugee in. Lately, I find myself here, in this spot...head back against the gratified covered walls and knees pressed against my chest. Broken beer bottles, assorted discarded clothing, and plants sprouting through the cracked stone surround me in my squatters palace.

The stone frame makes up a large main floor, a stair case leading to the roof, and one into the basement, of which I haven't yet either been desperate or courageous enough to check out. No actual walls connect the frame, but the field of grass surrounding the abandoned structure is so overgrown that the interior is still well hidden. Its so peaceful here that if I rest my eyes long enough I could fall asleep among the other discarded things. Occasionally, a disheveled person will appear and then disappear into their own corner of the den of disillusionment.

It used to be that I came here when I was being punished. The first time was when it was raining. Originally, I had tried the buss stop bench, but its constructed in such a way that the roof tilts the rain water directly onto where you're supposed to sit (which as a masochist I loved, but practically speaking was ruining my shoes) and this was the only dry place I could think of to go to. Now though, its become a place of solace and refuge for me and in that way just as good of a friend as anyone could be.

My purple and orange tye dyed book bag sits beside me as a reminder that I can't get too comfortable as I'm due home soon with coconuts. Its not even so much that I'm due home 'soon' - I'm just due home before Master has to wait for something he wants.1

I look at my flip phone and allow myself five more minutes to think about the same three things I've been mauling over for months. Its this weird game of time wasting that I'm embarrassed to admit that I partake in. Somehow I believe that just five more minutes of thinking will provide a solution I'm clearly to ill equipped and ignorant to come up with. Another five minutes pass and I take a deep breathe, gather my belongings, and say goodbye again.

  1. The coconut filled book bag is the same bag I bought with my friends and used in high school, then college, and occasionally i'd take it the plane for work trips. Never did I think its utility would be stretched as far as helping me haul fruit as a slave in Costa Rica. []

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