I thought I would pull some weeds,
But I didn’t.
I thought I would cook healthy,
But I didn’t.
I thought I would keep in touch,
But I didn’t.
I thought I would write something new,
And I did.
Please use the open space below to share your first 50 words on the topic “I thought.”
“So sorry ma’am ,” Anu stood on the landing . Wringing her hands , wearing a terribly guilty look on the face.
The boss swept in , holding a packet of streamers in her right hand , aloft ,like a torch . Statue of liberty . A very pissed off statue . Bathed , perfumed, in a cloud of aromatic efficiency .
“I thought the meet was tomorrow.” Anu wasn’t going to let go an opportunity at self-flagellation .
“Sadist!!” hissed Sujata , seated at her desk.
“No, masochist”, corrected Ashok , “self- hate” explained Murthy.
Sujata rolled her eyes . She always rolled her eyes .
All fell silent when the Statue drifted in , with guilt ridden Anu in tow .
“Anu darling !!” The Boss stopped moving , the streamers stopped scraping the floor .
“Yes Ma’am ?” Eager -to -please Anu .
“Here , hold these .” Boss handed her over the files , streamers , buntings , all that had adorned her , hitherto.
Anu disappeared under all the streamers , with gratitude. Boss, freed from all that paraphernalia , swept her mascaraed eyes over the entire floor.
Everyone else pretended to be busy , very busy . Clickety clack , went everyone’s keyboards .
Boss clapped . All looked up .
“Okay!! Everyone , listen up !! Did anyone “Think” That the meet was tomorrow . ” The boss meant Anu , and Anu flushed .
The white buntings turned pink with her shame .
There was a moment of silence . The type at funerals , for the departed soul , etc etc .
“The meet is TODAY” , The boss thundered , and everyone , on cue , jumped to their feet .
“Please do not “think ” . Here , you are paid to “Not think ” . “I DO NOT WANT ANY THOUGHTS !!”
Everyone bustled around .
Buntings around Anu’s neck turned a shade darker pink.
I thought about my dog. I thought of his exuberant “smile” as a puppy, bounding toward me in the kitchen. And now I think of his wobbly, lopsided gait and tired, open-mouthed “hello” and grey whiskers and how I love him even more.
I thought that I could continue to be what they thought I could be, but that was a mistake. I’m not a good person. I’m angry and these dark thoughts just keep coming. What do I do with them? Where do I put them? I could try to put them to positive use, but that’s not nearly satisfying enough…and these knives are readily available for use…