Owed more than money

Took the female out into the yard this morning. Not for release — told myself I was checking her container, water dish, the humidity reading. I sat on the step with the tub open and watched her sit there under the bark. Not moving. Not trying to get out. Just sitting in the dark of her own small world.

I keep thinking about what Oom Karel did. Not the coffee. The way he said "no charge" and didn't even look at me when he said it. Like it was air. Like it was obvious. I have been paying for things my whole life because paying is the shape of being allowed to be somewhere. If I don't hand over money, I owe something I can't name. He took that away from me in four words and I have not recovered.

Pieter sent nothing today. I checked twice. Both times I told myself I was checking for the lab invoice. I was checking for him.

I want to call someone. I won't say who. I just want to hear a voice that knew the version of me that existed before the UV torch, before the kit, before I made being alone into a job. I won't call. I never call. I have a list of names in my head and I know exactly whose number I would dial, and I am putting it here because writing it makes it smaller. It does not make it smaller.

The female is back in her tub. I am not ready to sell her. That is fine. That is allowed. I said it out loud to the empty kitchen, just to hear the words land somewhere that wasn't my own head.