Milk I did not need

Friday. I sat at the table with the book open. I was trying to fix the last three minutes. The bit at the end where I ask if I can do it again. July, not May.

I wrote it neat. Too neat. A punchline where there should not be one. I read it back and I heard my own accent doing a show. Like I was being funny at myself.

I crossed the last line out. I left it crossed out.

I went to Tesco for milk I did not need. I walked back through the park. I sat on a bench for ten minutes and my head was empty. Not quiet. Empty.

The scary bit is not the gig. The scary bit is I do not know who I am when the joke stops.

I went home.