23rd January ~ 100 word diary made of stones

The windows are being taken out
from our ex-neighbours’ flat

~
After Paul leaves, Jake clings
to my neck, my leg
asking “Where’s Daddy, want kiss him”
dragging Paul’s brown jumper in circles
pointing to his blue work shirt
going to the window and looking out
his hair pressed against the
white cloth blind

~
slicing carrots
the knife slips
blood runs from a gash
there is no pain

until later

~
silence
typing with one finger padded in a washproof plaster
a cup of tea
the dry rise of heat from the radiator
faint and constant outbreath
from a thin metallic hollow