Write to Him

He stays up late. He makes a list.

      - I should write.

      - I should eat.

      - I should go to sleep.

      - I should at least go to bed.

      - I should read.

      - I should watch something.

      - I should figure it out.

He makes a list, hoping that one thing will jump out at him, but everything's so normal. So he thinks about what's not normal, for him, for now, what he could do.

      - I could go to a bar.

      - I could get some food.

      - I could go for a walk.

      - I could write.

      - I could go to bed.

      - I could try to sleep.

      - I could talk to her.

But would talking to her really be a good idea? It wouldn't be a bad idea. But it wouldn't be a good idea either. What's not bad and not good? What isn't bad and also isn't good? What's just there? What's apparent? What is something that's out in the open and you see it but you don't acknowledge it, something you take advantage of, something you think will always be there and then suddenly it's not?

      - I should write to him.

He thinks about his father. He thinks about the horrible day. He thinks about hearing others say, This, this is when my life changed forever, this is the moment that made me who I am, this is it and it was this. And that was his and his was death and now he is who he will be forever. Or, if not forever, well, then, at least, he supposed, for a very long time.

      - I should write to him.

He gets a drink of water. He goes to bed.