A Specific Gravity
I am sitting on a cream colored couch. There is a blue and white striped large pillow lying to my right. On my left is a rumpled ornate blanket that was bought in India which I have been sleeping under the last couple of nights. I have made a small mess of this place. In the kitchen, the counters are dirty and there are many dishes in the sink that have yet to be washed. In front of me is a mug marked by thin brown rings as I've failed to rinse or even find a different mug for each new glass of hot tea. Tomorrow I will clean up. Tomorrow I will pack my things and sort through what to take and what to leave behind. Tomorrow I will take a single key off a jumble of other keys and leave it here on the table I'm writing from now. I will then close the front door of this beautiful and simple garden flat and the door will lock behind me. And from there, I won't turn back.