On the Bridge, Forgetting

Whenever I find myself in a situation where I can’t think of something to write, I buy a dozen glazed donuts. I take them down to the bodega on the corner, and I feed them to the cat there. He is a sad cat with nothing else to eat. After that, I walk around the block. As I go, I use my phone to take close up pictures of red cars. By then it’s usually time to go to work, so I go.

At work, people ask me if I’m ok. People are very concerned about me at work. I tell them that I am considering starting a small business. I tell them that I am ok. 

By the time I leave work, I have remembered what I forget every morning, which is that I have nothing to add to the compendium of human narcissism that we call literature.

I go to see the cat at the bodega to make sure he is well. He is never well.

This week’s prompt: writer’s block


6 thoughts on “On the Bridge, Forgetting

  1. i never run out of things to write about, but we are not talking about quality, it can be the hurricane that swept New Orleans or the tsunami that hit Asia in 2004, or my bog overflowing and the plumber not picking up my call and sleeping with the fear that the water will drown me in my bedroom…

    Liked by 2 people

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