At 7PM

By Tshireletso Kgomotso

At 7PM (Inspired by Baudelaire’s At One O’Clock In The Morning)

Finally! I am home! Nothing matters but the glass of white wine in my hand. For the next three hours, I will read what I want, and write what I want. Finally, the burden of the job is sitting at the office and I can do what I want!

Finally, I can develop Ilse further and paint her secrets darker! I can take her to the darkest corners of the world and back and we can cry hot, gooey, black tears together.

Flashback at my day; during the morning meeting with the manager, I disagreed with her - silently. With conviction, I approved the software for go-life. I exchanged non-Duchenne smiles with the stakeholders, observing that they too, avoided handshakes. To rejuvenate, I walked to the office kitchen for some unwanted tea. I travelled to my writing room as I stood by the window, waiting for the kettle to boil. I strolled through the slanted wine fields, letting them propel me forward with each crescendo of the kettle whistle. I wondered where all the cars snaking below were going for lunch.

personal rebellion, escape