I'm up every day at five. Every day. Up at five, go for a jog, take a shower, wake Sally, cook breakfast down with Dave and Sally for breakfast. Eat a tiny portion. Be sure to leave some on the plate. Always.
Get dressed.
Check on Sally. Comb her hair. Pack her lunch. Wait with her for the bus. Hug her goodbye. Make sure that hug lasts all day long...that she feels your arms around her even at recess when the mean kids pick on her because their moms don't hug them enough. Then let go. Watch her walk away, board the bus.
Choke back your tears. Taste the salt slide down the back of your throat. Go back inside. Check yourself in the mirror. Ugh. Turn around. Cross through the kitchen. Feel the quiet of the empty house. No one watching. What can you eat? Open the pantry, look inside. Grab the jar of peanut butter. Unscrew the lid. Take a whiff. Stick your finger in the jar of peanut butter. Lick it off. Feel someone watching you. Turn around to face them. No one's there. Put the peanut butter away. Wash your hands, careful to remove any trace of peanut butter. Reapply lipstick. Head out the door. To work.
This isn't fun anymore. There's something wrong with me.
Comment:
I chose to make these adjustments in light of what I am planning on doing with the script. The beginning will be slow, but perhabs spoken with a fast pace, which is why I took out a lot in the beginning. Then I tried to make the ending shorter, since I am planning on acting it out, and taking my time to go through the action proberly, so I need to have time to do this in my performance.
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