Don't open the book

Miriam left at nine. I stayed. Back room is quiet when the front lights are off. Just the little lamp by the till.

Tried a new way tonight. I used to say what things look like. I asked a question instead. Wrote it down: did she know, did she know I was going to be a person who did this.

Read it back. Four times. Did not feel sick. Read it a fifth. Still did not feel sick.

That never happens.

Walked home. Sat at the kitchen table. Did not open the book. I am not joking about that.

If I read that line again I will know it is bad. I will cross it out. I will write over it. And it is the first line I have written in two years that did not make me want to throw the whole book in the river.

I am a comedian. I do jokes. That is what I do. I am fine with that. I am very fine with that.

(book is still shut)