Tuesday, 4 August 2015


I sneak up on you and turn your key.

Sometimes I do it when you are asleep, when you don't hear night sounds like your fridge belching or your floorboards groaning as I tip-toe across them. I turn it just enough so that your good dreams don't overexcite you and the bad ones don't go on for long enough to kill you.

But when you are awake I have to turn your key when you are not looking. When you are doing simple things like boiling a kettle or peeling a potato or hanging your smalls on the washing line. I have to be careful that you don't see me and that I don't drop the key before I have the chance to turn it. I especially have to make sure that I bob down quickly enough whenever you look at yourself in the mirror. I've been caught out a few times like that and I see the momentary look of horror on your face before you have the time for your brain to forget seeing me.

I sneak up on you and turn your key.

I make it all happen. Every sneeze. Every fart. Every annoying song that crawls into your head.

It's me.

And I'll be there for you until your key grows blunt and rusty and completely unturnable.

                                                                                     (C) Ally Atherton 2015

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