Rations

I ask you a question.

Your reply is short. You smile politely. It is clear you consider this query answered. It’s a curt sentence, but a sentence nonetheless. I have to admit that.

The air is thin in here now.

Dismissive, I say to myself.

I watch you thinking. Then you decide to elaborate.

You say some more. You become animated. It’s like you went from black and white to color. I feel my own color returning.

Not dismissive, I say to myself.


From the archives:
Yes, Please
The High Cost Of Being Me
The Best Thing Someone Never Said to Me