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Sport 41: 2013

[Untitled]

page 12

I cough onto the window. Outside the window the street is eating
itself. I am eating a piece of bread, chewing as if I can’t decide
whether to swallow. I need to go outside but my neighbour is out
there. I’m waiting until she goes away.

She goes away and I go outside. But I was wrong, she didn’t go
away, she was still there, but I couldn’t see her, she had gone into
her garage momentarily. My neighbour is wearing complementary
colours which hurt my eyes. She is holding a pair of hedge clippers.
She says hello. I say hello back, but not in the tone that one usually
says hello, more like in the tone that one says sandwich. I don’t
look her in the eye. She asks me where I am going. I am going to
the hospital, I say. It’s the third time I’ve broken my arm this year.
She bends down to cut the head off a dandelion. Is that so, she says.
Well, did you know, once I went to three weddings in a month.