Feelings of emptiness fill me. I fluctuate between anxiety, guilt,
and depression. It paralyses me. How long has it been? Days? Weeks?
Months? I do not know. The appointment with the lawyer was for ten.
Should I not have cancelled?
But I have already done so twice.
The arm of the reception chair I am sitting on is broken, and my elbow
keeps slipping off. I want to get up. I want to run. But I can’t.
The receptionist’s telephone rings madly.
Through the door I notice two ornaments on a corner cabinet in the
adjoining room. |
|