Coming and going
We experience ourselves in comings and goings, tending each contemplation between checkpoints. We are carried by prepositions that make our destinations possible; along the tracks to anywhere, up the stairs to bed. This morning I didn’t break the night’s fast. I trod through the aspects of my life as if it were an open plan house, my bare feet twisting together abandoned damp towels and dry laundry. Then I remembered stations, and I walked outside to mourn them. I made a vow to get home and close the door: to consider where I’d just been, with punctuation so impossibly missed.
Zoe Turner works in publishing in Manchester, UK. She is co-organiser of the spoken-word night Verbose and co-editor of The Book of Newcastle. Her writing has also been published in Dear Damsels.
100 Words Of Solitude 