Hell. Cream cheese onion left a mark. Gilligan, he got up and stole the lemon. It was going to be flavoring. Now there'll have to be a compromise.
You've got to go to the kitchen and get a butter knife, but the people next door keep knocking on your walls. Wonder if there's a broom? It would be nice to brush off all this dust, put it under a rug or outside. The spoons are losing their luster and, maybe, there's poisonous stuff under there. Not the kind that kills you right away, but the metal kind, the kind that stays in your whole self for decades until your brain stops cooperating, starts letting you call everyone "Billy" and talk about things that happened when you were 17.
The plastic panelling is melted, like maybe the heat is too much sometimes. The fireplace seemed like a good idea at first, didn't it? The carpet wasn't this dark before, though, and these ashes weren't on top of everything. Who can afford a maid? Who dusts picture frames?In your wallet there's a business card, maybe, of that guy who offered you a way out. What was his name? Who'd he work for? He was making sense when he talked about getting rid of all the excess stuff around your place. He was together. He had everything under control. He wasn't so specific, but he really made you feel like you, too, could be a success.
Last month you lost something. You can't even remember what it is. You're still driving, still able to get into your place. You still have your cards and things. It was very important when you lost it, so why can't you remember now? Have you lost the place in your head where it was before you lost it, too? Did someone reorganize in there, so the mess is gone, but the order makes no sense anymore?The neighbors are still knocking. There's a dog barking somewhere, sounds like it's probably miles away. Sometimes, in the middle of the day, it's suddenly very quiet. The noises that are always there somehow just aren't there anymore, for a minute. Like all the mechanical things stopped whirring and clicking, and all the electronics stopped humming, and all the traffic stopped moving. And in that temporary silence you suddenly remember something else you lost, years ago, that you never even realized was gone.
Remember that? What the hell happened to it? You used to use it all the time. You sometimes would sit on the old shingles of the roof in the dark and stare at the stars and it would be there with you. You might not've been thinking about it amidst the clutter of thoughts about night time and next morning and dwindling relationships and quiet lives, but it was there somewhere. How long ago did it dissappear?
Now the silence gets back in a little shell in a corner of the closet and the knocking's there again and there's a screaming couple somewhere and you still can't find the broom. But the onion mark isn't so noticeable.
The lemon's no big deal.