This story is brought to you by @bachuslib, who suggested the words “petrichor (a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather), paraprosexia (the inability to pay attention to any one thing, a state of constant distraction), qualtagh (The first person to enter a house on New Year's Day; = "first foot". Also: the first person one meets after leaving home, especially on a special occasion)” as inspiration for a story, as asked for in my Steem anniversary post. Definitions for these words have been taken from google search results. As the words themselves might be a bit difficult to include in a story without it feeling forced, I will use the concepts they represent instead.
I leave the house to get some coffee, turn around the corner,
see a cat and start following it. The cat moves slow as if it has all the time in the world. Where is it going? Why? After a few minutes, the cat stops, I crouch down to pet it and
there’s dirt on my shoe. I wipe it off with my sleeve, can’t walk around with dirty shoes, can I? Although now my sleeve is dirty. Oh well, I can wash that when I get home, right after I have my
coffee. I get up again, turn around and walk in the direction of the coffee shop, a path I had abandoned earlier. It’s not too far away, I try to pick my favorite places according to their proximity to my home. Everything that’s too far away is impossible for me to reach without help from someone. It’s hard to concentrate on something specific for a long time, it happens too fast that I
see someone who looks a bit like a friend of mine. They are a few meters away, so I start shouting their name but get no reaction. I start walking towards them, realizing that I haven’t interacted with a single human soul yet today, not since I left the house at least. I finally reach them, tap their shoulder, they turn around and@suesa
something is wrong with my hand. My fingernails, to be more specific. They don’t look like they are supposed to do. Curious, I inspect the nails which are all painted in different colors. They don’t follow a specific pattern, I must have painted them without focusing on what I was doing. I can’t even remember doing that. I chuckle and
“Hey, do I know you?”, the person, the first person I saw today, the person I thought to be a friend of mine, says and gives me a slightly anxious smile. I don’t know them.
”I’m sorry”, I say. ”I think I confused you with someone.”
”That’s okay, it happens. Have a nice day!” The stranger says and leaves. I watch them go, feeling alone and
I need a coffee. I still didn’t have my coffee. I look at my watch and realize that I’ve already wasted about thirty minutes. Again! I should be better handling this by now, there’s a reason I’ve been in therapy. My therapist is trying to help me to concentrate better, that’s what the meds are for, the tiny, white
clouds. There are clouds forming above my head, and they start turning from white to grey. Is it going to rain? I forgot my umbrella, which will result in me getting wet if it really starts to rain. Then again, it’s a hot summer day, a bit of rain might be nice, after all, it would be quite refreshing
and sweet! That’s how this watermelon looks. I stop in front of the man selling fruit and check out the melon that drew my attention. It’s already quartered, and black seeds are glistening in the dark-red meat. My mouth begins to water
drops are starting to fall on my head. I curse, and look around for cover, to escape the rain I had just predicted a few minutes ago. Or was it really a few minutes? I check my watch. 40 minutes wasted. I start getting annoyed. This is so typical, I just can’t concentrate on anything! I really need to call my mom and tell her that I need help again, as I’m obviously not able to handle this alone. I tried, and I failed
to see the cyclist speeding down the street, trying to escape the rain. He crashed right into me, and we both fell down.
”Ow!” I cried out.
”Oh god, I am so, so sorry”, the cyclist said, trying to help me up. ”Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
”There will be some bruises, but I think nothing is broken”, I conclude.
”That’s good.” The cyclist is visibly relieved. ”But please, let me buy you a coffee as a thank you.”
Together we finally walk into the coffee shop, just a few meters away. He gets me my order, apologizes again, then leaves me alone. My grip tightened around my coffee, I head towards the exit of the coffee shop. The next task is to go home, without taking almost an hour. I open the door leave and
everything smells so nice after the rain, doesn’t it? Especially on a hot summer morning. It’s such a unique scent, I don’t know why I like it so much, but it’s really awesome. I wish I could smell it every day
is a struggle for me. A tear rolls down my cheek and I close my eyes.
I just want to function normally.