I rushed home to wash up, taking so much extra distance of walk. I picked a good set of clothes, putting up the best front I could. I walked each step faster than my injured knees could, tried not to move my body so that I wouldn’t sweat and stink.
I was sharp on time but somehow someone before me jammed the queue. The pretty soul appeared at the counter and I smiled at her like any other friend but she didn’t seem to recognise me. She walked off with a patient and when I turned back, the curtain to her cubicle was spread.
For so long I tried to occupy myself with writing but I nodded time from time to scribble on the book. She called for my name at last and I followed her like the previous time. I was experienced and calm that I expected for questions like the previous time. But what she asked was like stabbing right into my mouth, that I was too embarrassed to answer.
I didn’t exercise as instructed. My all day long tiring work had made me lazier than before. There wasn’t any motivation for me to go on, at least not when I had doubts in the stretching’s capabilities to heal my knees.
The reproaching turned my face red. It was only when questioned, I started to realise why my laziness could overcome the urge to try different stuffs to cure my injuries – I’ve immune to the aching and no longer afraid of their presence. I believed few or none could endure as far as me. But I wasn’t a hero, just a foolish ignorant.
It should be a good day but somehow my frankness devised me of the privilege; can this farker lie when it’s crucial?