I almost phoned him

Tank light on at six. I checked every box. All quiet. None out. Good.

Made coffee. Sat on the back step. The wind was small today. Not cold. Just there.

I held my phone a long time. I looked at his name. I did not tap it.

I tell myself I am busy. I say the work needs me. But today the work did not need me. I just sat.

The Karoo is far. That is the point. Far from dad. Far from the flat I left. Far from her.

I cleaned the kit. I packed it anyway. Maybe I drive tomorrow.

I hate that I do this. I hate that I know I do this. And I still do it.

The torch sits on the bench. It waits for me. It always does.