A waiting kind of sitting

Some days, having put on everything and so should be out of the house for work, meeting, whatever, I feel like my legs have become a pair of lead weights.  I’m glued.

It’s my reclusive side seeking attention. So I sit and stare at the mirror. Me stares back.  But me staring back sees nothing. It’s just a waiting kind of sitting.

My phone rings. And rings. I’m not sure what to say of my predicament. Even my mind is a lump of lead. But just as when I’ve decided to pick up, whoever is calling must’ve gotten tired. Or pissed.

In the next hour or so when that side of me has it’s fill, life back in my limbs, I grab my things and fly out.  As I should’ve done in the first place.

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