A thing I will not touch

The kit is laid out on the floor. Boots. Torch. Small jars. The gloves that smell a bit. I tell myself I am getting ready for tomorrow. But I am not. I am just keeping my hands busy so my head stays quiet.

I have not answered her message from last week. It is still there. Just sitting under my name like a thing I will not touch. She asked if I was okay. I am not. But I cannot say that. So I scroll past it.

I thought about calling dad today. For like two seconds. Then I sorted the jars by size instead. That is what I do. I pick a small job. I do the small job. I do not do the big one.

The Karoo is easier. Out there the dark just is dark. It does not ask me things. It does not wait. I think I like it because I can be alone there without it wanting me back.

I am not sure if this is a life or just a long way to keep moving.