I wake up with the urge to call in sick.
I don’t call in sick.
I have never called in sick.
I arrive at work too early – fifteen minutes – and have nothing to do but flip through yesterday’s paper and keep looking up at the clock.
I am still not smoking. I am chewing my nails and throwing things away instead. I want to buy some more things so I can throw them away. I want to de-clutter my life, like I am completing the exercises in some sort of self-help book or television programme. I want to throw away the things in my head, too. The memories of Carol, etc.
I want to throw away Carol’s knee, but it clings to the inside of my head like a barnacle.