The little martian nudges me emphatically as he points to my calendar.
I look away, pretend I don’t see what he’s pointing at, the numbers flashing on my screen like neon flags.
He yanks my moth-eaten sweater and pulls at my bandana, I continue to ignore him.
My cold hands freeze momentarily as I consider the possibility of listening to him. Listening means thinking, thinking means realising. Awareness forces action, I realize I am too scared to act. I push him out of my line of vision, carry on with my careful distraction, and force my senses into submission, a bumbling beneath disturbs this farce of peaceful victory.
There is silence for a moment or two
Pur plunk
The little martian hops into my room on a pogo stick, with fluorescent sunglasses, he waves a banner bigger than him.
“You can’t just pretend you don’t see it “ he yells out
I disagree, I can pretend as long as I want.
I can pretend I am okay with the games, I can pretend I enjoy playing, I can pretend as long as I want, as long as I need.
The little martian sighs,
He dumps the banner by my feet, takes off his glasses, puts the pogo stick behind my desk, and settles down beside me
I pick up the banner when I think he isn’t paying attention
“It's Friday the thirteenth. “
Comments