Out of all misery...

The package was right in front of her, and she looked at it, and, at the same time, she did not see it. Her throat was sore and she longed for a glass of water.

The white colour of the package made it clear. White is nothing. Or everything. Every possible shade of colour. Every single touch.

Would the package's content be white, too? A content that would be solving a problem. One of which she did not know whether it was, would become or should be a problem, at all. If you have reached a certain state, she allowed herself to think, not much else counts. You don't count.

She lifted the package up and looked at it, saw it, this time, even read the writing. Once or twice in so many years, and now this. No other answer to it than this package. What if -

She put the package down, flat on one of its sides, and began to open it.
Another thought escaped, unwanted. I wonder what it would have been like.

She took the content and got herself a glass of water.



© 2010
i feel the need, folks, to
stress that this is fiction