I did not dial

The water was grey this morning. Same grey as always. I swam and my shoulder clicked on the fourth stroke. Clean. No pain. That used to be the bad part. Now it just clicks.

Then the bag. Three on, one off. Shoulder clicks again on the third. The bag does not care about my shoulder.

I sat on the bench. Long black. Phone in my pocket. I did not open it.

The slot is in two days. My hands are ready.

But the envelope is still in the drawer. The receipt still on the fridge. I know what is in the envelope. I have known for weeks. If I open it, I have to do the next thing.

I ate dinner standing up. I did not dial.

I keep thinking if I train harder, the envelope goes away. It does not go away. I know that.

A man who can take a hit to the face is scared of a piece of paper.

Tomorrow. Maybe.