would you come if I called

I move slowly tonight. Watching the skin on my hand wrinkle when I move my fingers. The feel of having joints.

It is a warm night outside, I took a walk and the air against my bare legs was gentle and sweet. There are so many layers of me here, in Skarpnäck. These red brick buildings and trees. The traffic lights at the three-way junction ticking out of sync, telling me not to cross. The street completely empty, as it is most of the time. The smell of the white roses. The cherries are black and ripe now, but no one picks them. I should buy a ladder. Or make friends with someone really tall.

I’m almost done with the crocheted pillowcase now. But I’m running out of yarn. I think I’ll go into town tomorrow to buy some more.