The Sticky Fly Paper
The battery in my bathroom scales has been dead for quite some time. I keep forgetting to grab a steak knife from downstairs to prise it out of its little compartment and replace it with the new one sitting on the shelf adjacent to where it sits on the floor. At last count I was 22 stone. My job is somewhat physical. I puff and pant at times. People offer to carry things for me sometimes, the shop girl who has just put my groceries through the till, my colleague from my course who I’ve met at the bottom of the hill leading up to the college as I stand there with a small stack of library books to be returned, or a nice man in the college canteen who offers to carry the tray that holds my plate and my drink to a table. I accept these small offers of help with gratitude; however, my biggest wish is that a day will come when I don’t need them to go about my day.
Create Your Own Website With Webador