Foiled Again

I’m of a merry morning disposition, and somehow I’ve blithered through life without adding enemies as a result.

On Monday, I stopped by one office to ask how their weekend went. They asked about mine.

“Oh, I killed someone this weekend,” I said.

They laugh.

I decide to take this as them not believing me, and not as a sign of severe psychosis. One woman says, “Lucky you,” and I leave.

A few hours later, I’m hard at work, and another colleague stops by my office. Gives me a meaningful look. Along glare-lines.

“I come in here, spill my soul, and you… you don’t even tell me??”

Color me confused. He prods.

“What you did this weekend….?”

Mind you, hours have passed. And I say many things in a day. AND, I spend every weekend doing the exact same thing: writing. And it doesn’t help that he’s waving around a giant pen in his fury.

He prods again. “Who did you kiss?”

I stare. I blink. I flip.

“I didn’t KISS anyone??! I KILLED THEM!!!! OMG, who TOLD you that? I KILLED–KILLED! Doesn’t anyone LISTEN???”

I turn to dial the office. He begs me not to, coz they’ll know he told me.

“I cannot have them telling people I KISSED someone this weekend, when I KILLED them. People will THINK things!”

… I should probably conclude by mildly noting that I did not kill anyone either. But it’s one thing to wholly misrepresent oneself, and another thing entirely to have one’s misrepresentation misrepresented.

That is my profound take-home for the week. Bury it in your gardens, and may it sprout a tree of eternal confused truths. And may you pick leaves in your dreams.

Everything is absolutely normal.

Everything is absolutely normal.

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About sputnitsa

Born in the US, I grew up in Africa and the West Indies, and returned stateside in my teens. After a decade in international development, democracy work, and inclusivity training for domestic NGOs, I joined Peace Corps, and after a year, experienced my first Russian invasion. I followed that up by volunteering with refugees and youth, and after some vacation time climbing minarets and mountains, I returned to New York City, where today I work on social justice with college students, produce short films, and write.
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