Daily Routine
By: Anthony Farentino
Traffic, work, headache; red
lights, radio, traffic . . . Phone calls, emails, memos, reports, meetings. Driving,
parking, sitting, waiting.
Another day, another routine.
Waiting for that moment; pulling
the car down the street, tires easing up the drive-way . . .
Home. Finally. Home.
Stress melting, tension reseeding,
dinner calling.
Car alarm beep; keys rattle; door
unlocks.
Step in, light on . . . trash.
Trash everywhere.
Used napkins, messy plates, old
food, all scattered helter skelter across the living room, perhaps the dining
room; the kitchen for-sure. A tornado of mess tears through the house while
you’re away.
Peeking out of shredded tissues,
behind chewed paper-towel rolls, over crumpled bags full of crumbs, are: two
small ears, a wet nose, and one guilty little face.
Someone doesn’t like your routine
either.
©Tonyfsketches
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