(no subject)
I felt the steam press firmly on my brow, wincing slightly in the vapor ... blue gingham on the ironing board, and as I tried to mind the collar I lost track of my own hand and singed a finger. Slightly bewildered I stood motionless and looked beyond my alocasia and the flies crawling the sunlit screen of my patio door. I found myself listening to the faraway sounds of children playing and the whine of passing motors. I myself felt faraway. Eventually the hiss and spit of the iron brought me back to the immediate throb, and there I've remained for the entirety of this day.