haiku 2 | egal

Wohin du gehst, ist

den Menschen so egal wie

der Grund, den du hast.

fragment 1 | lunar calendar

“Wednesday: waning moon in Pisces. Whatever begins today will quickly cease again. Stick to routine activities like cleaning, laundry, etc.”

She was still slightly dizzy when she climbed out of bed, slowly, because her entire abdominal region was in pain, her head was pounding, and her eyes were light-sensitive. She noticed she had smeared the sheets a little when she turned around and looked at the bed on which she had left the wrinkly newspaper. The bed in which she had spent the most horrible hours of her life. Her dirty blonde hair was knotty and strands of it still stuck to her sweaty forehead. Stumbling on weak knees, her arm reached for the door handle; as soon as her nerves signaled to her brain her fingers had touched the cool white plastic, her grey fingers started to wrap themselves around it. Her hand pressed down. Without a sound, the door opened. As she passed a few doors with glass windows, nobody seemed to bat an eye at her. The whole time she was walking down the corridor, she anticipated hearing someone call out to her, telling her that she needed to go back to her room and rest in bed. When she resisted, they would probably get the security staff to escort her back. But nobody did. So she continued stumbling down the corridor, one small step after the other, barely lifting her feet off the ground.

She reached the baby unit. When there wasn’t a nurse she could wave at, she started knocking on the huge glass window, through which proud new parents could watch their babies. Her knocking became gradually louder, and when the first handful of newborns started crying and screaming and shaking like exposed cod worms, a nurse came running, her face showing signs of estrangement when she laid eyes on her. The cod worm carer rushed out of the station, frantically waving her arms, asking her why she was disturbing the poor little babies.

“I would like to spend some alone time with my cod worm.”

“Excuse me?”

“I would like to spend some alone time with my baby, please.”

The infant felt warm and surprisingly heavy in her arms. Its head was resting on her, eyes closed, arms between its chest and hers. While she was walking back to her room it made quiet burbling noises.

When she opened the door, sunlight shone through the window onto the bloody bed. She could see dust particles flying through the air. It was an idyllic view with all those pastel-colored cards and smelly flowers in the warm light of early summer. She approached the window. Gently shuffled her little child to her left arm, so she could open the window with her now free right hand. When she did so, the warmth of the sun hit her face, along with the song of birds and ambulance sirens in the distance. Her right arm wandered back to the baby, whose burbling had gotten a little louder since the sunlight now hit its face directly too. She made sure she had a good grip on it in both hands. She lifted it up and away from her body a little and threw it out of the window. There was a short screech before she heard it hit the ground. She felt extremely relieved, but at the same time extremely uneasy, because she wasn’t sure if she had enough time to do the laundry today.