Little Wisps

"You're a fool! What were you thinking?"

He's right. I am a fool and an old one at that. I was thinking, or at least, I think I was thinking about, oh, it escapes me now, but I know that it was important and so, I was focused on that, whatever it was.

"Let's get your hand under the tap, quick!"

Oh, that water's really cold! Oh, it's almost as bad as the burning. Yes, it seered, so sharp, and I can remember wondering what I'd done. I must have put it on something hot. Did I forget the thingy? I did that once when I was little. I picked up a kettle and the lid wasn't on properly and I hadn't noticed and the steam was bursting out the top, like an angry word and it hit my hand and I dropped it, and oh, my mother did go mad.

"There. The water's helping. Let's just keep your hand there now."

I can feel it tingling, tingling with hot and cold. What did I forget? I want to dry my hands.

"Just leave it there, just a bit more and then, we'll have a look at it."

I'm doing more and more strange things of late. The other day I watered the plants with bleach or at least, that's what Glenn said I did. He came home from golf and I was pouring Domestos into the ficus we have in the lounge. He asked me what I was doing and I looked down and saw that I wasn't holding a jug. I think I'd left it somewhere. I knew I had to clean the toilet and had picked up bleach instead, I suppose.

"There we go, love. You sit there. I don't think you've got too much damage. I caught you just in time."

I won't be able to catch anything. My hand is hurting.

"I'll sort the dinner, love. You just sit there."

I don't know what I'd do without Glenn. I don't like it when he leaves the house.

I'm losing myself. Glenn says I'm okay. My mind....

Little wisps. Trying to grasp. Disappearing into nothing, just like the steam of that kettle.

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366 words

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