I look down at the tub of chemical mixing. The smells were getting to my head, probably playing around with my brain cells but I lose those daily on account of being an idiot anyways. My mind kept floating and it was like I was trying to leash a hummingbird by keeping it close and in this present time. I recalled several dead hummingbirds on my porch one evening...but that could have been a dream.
Lately they have decided to mix together, reality and dream world. I don't mind. Except dead birds on my porch with strings tied around their necks was a painful sight to spectate on. I am not sure I did anything about these birds. I am a coward. But most of us are, I am just the one who would admit it.
Who was the twenty first president? I racked my brain cells, that were slowly deteriorating, for the answer. Cheese came up in my head, then Charlie, then an A. I sighed and looked down at the photo prints. You're daughter is Laura, your son is Tom and your wife...I panicked and jolted up shaking the photograph slightly and smudging the perfect lines. Who is your wife? Think man?! I closed my eyes and breathed deeper.
My wife is so pretty.
Cynthia. Such a pretty name for a pretty lady. I sighed happily and resumed my work. When were they born. Laura, 1978. She's twenty four, ah my baby. I'm proud. Tom, 1972. The man of the house now...or I am pretty sure they live alone now. Maybe Tom is married. But I am not superman for hell's sake. I chuckled softly at the unfunny joke and pittered softly about the damaged picture.
Cynthia...? I pondered for a moment then felt a gray haze go over my face turning my stubble rougher and my teeth ground on each other. Why, Cynthia is dead. She was born at some point in time but sadly I don't remember and I never will. I was born in May.
Do I have a third child? I closed my eyes again and turned the light on in the darkroom turning memories slowly into blackened out boxes. It didn't ever even matter. I'd surely forget them by the time I'm dead.