Punctuality

 

I have always been either too late or too early. On the 8^thof August 1998, I arrived too late. The house was burnt down and the firemen were taking the burnt bodies of my husband and my two daughters into a white car in black zipped bags. Neighbours were looking at me as if I was on time.

Two years later, I arrived too early at my boyfriend’s place. In a silver blue Fiat Uno, parked by the door, I saw a woman who had put her tongue inside my boyfriend’s mouth. I knocked on the window and she took her tongue out. 

  

 

29 Dec 2017