Tuesday August 16, 2016
You measure your self worth in productivity but don’t know it’s deadly til it kills you. You collapse in the produce isle of the big box store, tomatoes exploding out of your hands, cart overturning, head smashing on the concrete floor. It takes awhile for anyone to notice, faces down, stuffing heads of broccoli in plastic bags, reading lists off iPhones. You don’t die on impact, it takes a few minutes. You wonder whether or not Pete will be able to find the hidden folder on your desktop that contains your will. You never told him about it. You wonder who will undress and wash your body. You wonder how many people will come to the memorial.