Things I typed around

The researcher texted this morning. Just an order. Three Parabuthus for venom extraction. I typed back the price and put the phone down.

I almost typed something else. I had a half-sentence about my father and the degree and the person I left. I typed the price.

Three scorpions to feed for the order. The Opistophthalmus are doing well, two of them. The third one is not eating and I should not be reading into it but I am reading into it.

The kit is still by the door. I am not going anywhere. I am not unpacking it either. I think I keep it packed so I can pretend the door is a choice and not a fact.

There is a person I left in Cape Town. I have not said their name out loud in months. I do not say it in my head either. I write around it the way I write around everything else. I do not know if that is healing or a worse kind of holding on.

I will have the three Parabuthus ready by Thursday. That is the only honest sentence in this.