I know you’re a little lost. “It
Must’ve Been Love” is blaring through your dad’s speakers and you could barely
write something worth a read. You rest your chin on your right knee, hoping your
fingers would type something nice without you having to think for them. Your
head starts to throb. You hate the music, but you hate the idea of leaving an
air conditioned room even more.
You detect the secretary’s strong
perfume from the other room. It’s that bad, and it irritates your nose. You
wait for a sneeze. It does not come, but a headache does. You realize you just
had lunch but you’re hungry again. You suddenly want chips and chicken siopao. It’s only 1:12 in the afternoon. You wonder
what you’re doing, writing this, but you eventually just convince yourself that
this is free-writing. A practice. An exercise. You smile. In your head, of course, because it’s
too tiring to actually use your smile muscles. You roll your eyes a little, but
smile in your head. It’s basically the same thing, you think.
You can’t stand the perfume so
you go out to check on the secretary. Maybe so you could tell her to not spray
too much on her. There is nobody outside, nor is there anybody in the other
room. It puzzles you. It scares you a little, so you ask your dad. He does not answer you, so you lie
down on the bench opposite his table to demonstrate your annoyance. You squirm
like a fish out of water and cover your whole face, complaining that the
perfume is giving you a headache. You fake crying. Your dad does not mind you,
so you go back to your table hoping to write something better or to go deaf for
a while. You could not and do not, and now you’re not entirely sure if it is the music or
the perfume that is driving you crazy. You scrunch your nose for the fifth
time.
You finally rest your face on
your palms and decide to give up. You haven’t written anything. You sigh,
feeling sorry for yourself, because you should write. You should have written
something from your 15-minute experience, but you haven’t. So you give up, and decide
to post this to make the realization and frustration public.