Ever after . . .
Narrative arcs are tidy. They are also deceptive. Confining. Unattainable.
Story sometimes crushes the ordinary. The perplexing. The repetitive.
Description ascribes more meaning than the sensory experience of a rubbery keyboard cover, clicks emitted by the shower-head, the lingering scent of sautéed onion, a white screen with Times New Roman letters clicking into existence, the slight taste of mint chapstick . . .
Time, punctuated by repetitive buzzes from group texts, that newly offers the space to be answered immediately. Twinkling timer ringtones that seal off meditation from the rest of the day. Neighborhood walks determined by weather, not by schedules set by others.
The absence of school bells.