Reaching an age like I had, these small moments rarely mattered. Instances come and go without ever really changing you. Though there was one day that would change everything. I call it a day now, but that’s only on account of the importance. It could have been an hour or even a glimpse, but all I know is that it seemed to last a lifetime. Well, maybe not as long as a lifetime of someone that achieved something, but certainly as long as mine.
I was on my lunch break at the time and it was quite a nice day. I remember there being no clouds, but I can’t seem to remember if the sun was shining. As I normally did on a dry day, I walked across the park to get a cup of coffee. I didn’t have a window at my desk and I didn’t want to make the mothers in the park think I was a freak. So I walked across the park, bought a cup of coffee and sat outside on the rusty bench I had come to love. Well, love is a strong word, but it was a part of my routine that I couldn’t go without. It wasn’t even a nice place to sit, but at least it didn’t smell like I old paper. The coffee, as always, tasted like gravel. I never gave any sign of not enjoying it, because the mothers always kept a tight eye on me. I knew one of them was married to Jake, a coworker from the sales department. As soon as she talked to him, he would tell her that the store across the park sells the same crappy coffee, as he drinks at the office. For free.
As always, I try to look as relaxed as possible when I see what I think is a smudge. But wiping glasses and my eyes doesn’t seem to affect it much. I put my glasses back on, then get up to check it out. It’s fairly quiet, so I walk up to this little spot next to the slide. Right there next to it is a small black dot, only not as round. You can’t see it when you’re looking directly at it, but it’s there. I don’t know at this point if it is curiosity that pushes me past the wild panic I feel when I’m unprepared for something, but I can’t stop myself. I lift my shaky left arm and gently try to touch the smudge with the tip of my finger. Just before I thought I could really touch it, the tip of my index finger snaps. The shock stuns me and I feel no pain. Instead of touching the smudge, my finger bends past and down. By the time I realize this is real, still feeling nothing, my hand is so stretched out I can almost touch my own wrists. The panic makes it more real, but I never try to get away, I just stand there watching my limbs stretch until my shoulder is nothing more than a small bump in an otherwise perfect spiral.
The circles keep getting bigger and when I am hanging upside down I can’t even see my hand anymore. What I can see is my body and I am repulsed by it. For the first time I can see it as a machine would: greased up bones kept together by a sack of skin. I am about to pass by my feet when I feel a gentle tug in my ankles. But I try to keep my feet on the ground. Then I see her. It’s Jake’s wife. She’s wearing the ugliest sweater that looks as if she let the fat baby drooling on her arm pick it out. She’s giving me this frown. She’s frowning at me! And not just the way you would frown at something you don’t understand, but the way you would frown at a monkey holding its own feces: sad to look upon such lack of self-control. If I could’ve just yelled “twat” really loud, that would have been enough. But I was in no state to yell, so I jumped. I spun around the crack faster and faster, each circle smaller than the last. And after that, I was gone.
Not much had changed. The spinning had stopped, but I was still in the same place. It was a lot quieter and I could see to every side. I must admit, that was kind of strange at first. When I tried to move I touched the slide, that crumbled and flew into me. When I was one with the metal I remembered how you always wore the same shirt when you made pancakes. I don’t know if you wore the shirt because you wanted to bake pancakes or baked pancakes because you were wearing the shirt. Either way, I don’t think you ever noticed. It was just a unimportant memory; a lost detail I haven’t thought of in years, but suddenly it flashes clearly back into my short term memory. And with this memory I seem to grow to such extend that the sand in the sandbox is now also flying towards me. I remember how you would always invented maneuvers when having sex and would take great pride in naming them. And afterwards, when we were just laying there and I would never know what to say, you would talk about me being remembered by future generations as being witness to the birth of the greatest innovation to sex since the invention edible lubricant. Slowly, the jungle gym is coming loose. I can see it tilt towards me as the foundations are being pulled from the ground. When it’s completely airborne, it only has time to flip once, before it reaches me. I remember how you would get bored of conversations, dramatically roll your eyes and then walk off into that direction. Only once had someone dared to say something about it and as if rehearsed you answered, “Just roll with it.” We were left behind deeply confused and silent, as your giggling got farther and farther away.
My attraction was growing and more things flew and were digested. First, a trashcan and I remember how you would always flash me a piece of your shoulder in a very naughty '20ies way to test to see if I was looking. I always was. Even though I had seen you naked, it was still indecent fun. Then, a soda can, and I remember how I once found a doodle in my neck at work. I followed it down, in a bathroom mirror. I found there were drawings all across my back. I got angry and called you. You just said you couldn’t sleep and I was boring. You never used the word asleep, because you didn’t like ugly words.
When I am hit by a bunch of roof tiles, I remember how you used to yell at people who used abbreviations when they speak and I am suddenly hit by this intense loneliness. I want this to stop, but I can’t even move. So I just try to burrow, but the dirt disappears around me and I fall deeper and deeper into the ground. First it gets darker, then I get warmer. There is fire al around me and everything crumbles into the darkness.
I remember a mole at the base of your spine, which is almost the same colour as your skin.
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