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Post Office


I join a line. I’m a position. I’m near the back or I’m almost there. At one point I’m in the middle and I become absolutely nothing.

There’s a shout: “Turn”. We all jump 180 degrees to face in the opposite direction. Those that were at the front have to start all over again and those that are now at the front are experiencing something happening far too quickly.

“Counter number 5 please”

She asks me if she can help. It seems too little too late, but I don’t tell her that. In fact I fake enthusiasm while she hands me form after form after form.
I’ll come back later with them.

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