Buvidal

 *I wouldn't normally endorse any medication, but I've found buvidal to be a huge positive. This is my own personal experience, however.


I sit in Spittal street and sit like I've done many times before when I wait for time to pass. I'm not impatient. Sat in many places like this and more. The seats, the walls. The very essence of the outdated lives on in here. Ambient faded green, cherry and redwood veneer.


Further down the hall I'm moved to a room. With 3 I sit: A nurse, doctor and assistant in training. 

It's strange... awkward even. Conversation is limited, but I don't mind.

 Today I get buvidal. After 9 years.. 

 With a few exceptional weeks, a few prison sentences.. for the last 9 years ive had a daily habit of one kind or the other. That's routine taken to an extreme only a habit can bring.

Not a day without a high and a low.. 

Without a word the nurse injects something behind my right arm and like that... It's gone.


All the days.. the handcuffs.. Off.


Saturday 

On my first day off. 

The week proceeding Christmas. To be spent in bed. 

The room has borrowed some morning light through the curtains and it moves with the walls over my sheets and blankets. Nestled quietly in the still morning, my small heater gently hums a silent tune, a fog of yesterday is visiting to wish me well for the coming rest. 

Eyes move over clothes resting on hangers, plants undisturbed.

Was it only this week? That I returned the last volume of my story. Or maybe that was just the last chapter? 

It went on for longer than I had expected. Some of it went in, but I'll have to re read it. Maybe I'll try and write some of it here. 9 years.

Now I can lie in.

Leaving work 

For all things forgotten, the sound of the kitchen and it's endless torrents of water. Torrents that screamed and hissed, blades in the hands of the weary hot chefs.. 

Changed out my clothes I remember... Thought of now. Just get home. I have a home now. Is it over?

I stepped out into the cold. The night hitting me like the artic in winter. Cold, cold air, but wow what a relief. To be out of work and back to my place. 

The Grassmarket in full Christmas cheer, merry the people, like I, passing on by. Drizzle and slush coating our feet as we push on. Cars cutting through jams as they swerve and sound.

Up past the soup van where I used to stand. Years ago now, but not forgotten. 

I watch as tea in paper cups is passed out into the hands of the attendees and are then clutched close to the body for warmth. Inside, the staff removing biscuits from wrappers and gloves from donations. 

Im glad they're still there.





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