To Perceive an Image

Thirteen: Images of An Ambivalent Morning

Maryanland, September 07, 2040, 8:29 AM

"Wow," awed Flynn for what felt like the millionth time in the last ten minutes.

Doing something as mundane as walking around the streets brought him immeasurable happiness. The smile adorning his face never ceases to increase whenever he sees a building he recognizes or when I explain something unfamiliar to him. It's adorable, truth be told. His excitement won't allow him to walk side by side with me because he keeps taking quick steps to reach whatever building or object caught his attention.

Our routine consisted of us walking side by side at first, then him running off a few steps ahead to take a closer look, and finishing off with him waiting for me to reach him with my small steps. All of which end with me answering a plethora of questions. I'm already imagining the pain relief medication I'll take once I get home. My aching legs are killing me.

"Azail, the first ever doctor's appointment that I remember happened in this hospital."

"Azail, before the dreaded day, I had a job interview to attend the next day as an assistant in this building, but oh well."

"Azail, that's Malak's preschool."

"Azail, my mom used to work here. She taught high school algebra, I believe."

"Azail, I promise I'm done asking questions, that's a lie. But what's this building? I don't recognize it."

Azail this, Azail that, my poor pounding head. I mean, I know his circumstance, but the constant talking ought to become annoying at some point. And that point so happens to be right now. Hold in your anger outburst, girl, hold it in. I would like to thank the delicious smell of the bread from the bakery across the street for distracting me. I have no clue how the smell traveled this far, but I'm appreciative nonetheless. Although it's a mystery to me how Flynn finds the boisterous streets and people pushing each other to get to work to be serene. One doesn't think of the word serene when mentioning Detroit. But, it's my second home apart from where I was born, so I'll appreciate it for what it can give. Sorry Maryanland, you're not considered home to me. Maybe one day.

I'm going to make a safe assumption by saying it's the nostalgia getting to him. This is fine by me, but the constant talking throughout the morning will take a physical toll on me tonight. Who knew talking to people makes you feel exhausted? It's either a curse for introverts or a universal experience. Oh shit, I have work today. Yay because doctor Mohammad will be there, and fuck no, because of the coworkers who will not let me do my job in peace. I'll put them in their place like I do every time I go to work, but one day I'll get violent and risk losing the license that I do not yet have. Fuck being the bigger person, whoever tests you gave up that title by starting an argument, so why should you be the bigger person?

From a short distance, the grocery store, the land of my love, stares at me with its arms held wide open. That did not need to take a metaphorical turn.

"Uh, I don't know, never seen it," I answer Flynn's previous question with honesty. I didn't know anything about the building either.

Grabbing Flynn's arm to take his attention away from the building that I didn't know existed, and onto me. What I find strange is that no passerby acknowledges that there's a gigantic building to their side. The few men in long, black coats I saw exiting the building held the door open wide enough for it to cover a third of the sidewalk. Yet, no one notices the door or the tall men almost bumping into them. If it weren't for their companions preventing them from bumping into said giants, the door went unnoticeable. People and their ignorance towards their surroundings these days, I shake my head. You prevented yourself from bumping into a person, but at least prevent a concussion from bumping into a heavy door too.