How to Leave in 24 Hours
You're leaving in twenty-four hours.
You start picking through dirty jeans and shirts. Distracted by the early morning slant of sun warming the tumbleweeds, you leave the laundry to grab a camera. Five minutes later you notice the bowl of ripe tomatoes on the blue tiled counter. You can't just leave those. So you wash them gently, slice and toss them into a roasting pan with olive oil, herbs and cloves of garlic. You add a splash of balsamic vinegar.
You slide the pan into a low-heat oven.
|Still life with garbage.|
But you don't really care.
Somehow it will all work out. Or maybe you're just deep in denial, you think to yourself. You breathe.
You'll decide later.
And trusting your gut.
Whether it's making up a soup or reevaluating your career choice, or facing down familial opposition and sexual inertia because you actually believe in true love- it comes down to this.