Winter is Over
The smartwatch reminds me it's time to take my blood pressure. I get up from the desk and walk towards the living room. I'm in a vest - it's easy. I sit down and put on the cuff.
My eyes fall on the folder still resting on that table, full of notes jotted down on a sheet of paper. Traces of medicine boxes, of appointments made, some crossed out. The name is still legible on that worn folder, and it is not my name.
I turn my gaze and find other boxes. More supplements and bottles. I close my eyes and the walks to the pharmacy come back to me. The freezing air, the scarf, my hands reddened by the winter wind. But I went on foot, for that small outlet - that half hour of movement in a static time.
The pharmacist would ask questions and offer advice. I nodded and smiled, but understood nothing. I just wanted that time to end. Then she would ask how I was. Fine. Even though I was eating sweets and losing weight. Even though I slept like a stone, but little. Even though I dreamed - and not of what I would have liked.
Then I see the antibiotics - mine, this time - that I took a few weeks ago. When, at last, I could afford to be ill myself. For a few days. I can't stay away from my life for long.
I look at the calendar and the weather forecast on the device in front of my eyes. Sun, warmth. The plan is for a fine day out. I think to myself that I need to put that folder away. Winter is over, thankfully.
I press the button and wait: 104/58.
I get up and return to my chair, without looking back.