Nothing to see

The news today, like every day, is all about sacrifice, corruption, murder, and the wrath of human hearts. Can't focus on it though, for my ankles won't stop twitching. My grandmother, like my mother, had to deal with twitching ankles and passed down that responsibility to me. "It means that the weather is about to change”, I can hear both of their voices explaining.

The horrific news ends and the weather forecast begins. "Gloomy and rainy days are coming to an end", says the polite young forecaster. "Thanks man, I already knew that", - I point to my ankles, but the gentleman on the little television doesn't acknowledge my discomfort. Do you think he has a happy life? I ponder. I hate talking to myself, but there's no one better to talk to. The forecaster only wants to talk weather. Do people in Ethiopia or Iran ever see snow? My cat plops on the carpet and shows off her ginger underbelly, demanding I pet it. “You're the smartest gal I know, you know that?”. The cat slowly and deliberately blinks, leaving me suspicious. Maybe you do really speak English? English! What an ugly language to speak. And it's everywhere - I don't know if it ever snows in Iran and Ethiopia, but I bet you they've heard of English. It makes sense that such a disappointing world like this one would pick a language so unpleasant to be the popular one. I hate myself for never having anything important to say.

The handsome man on the news wishes me a happy evening; same time tomorrow then, old friend. Do you think he has a happy life? I turn off the little box and now I can see a reflection peeking out in the black mirror. I look at it deeply, but even after all these years, I can't decide what exactly am I supposed to see. The person on the black TV screen starts massaging their ankles. The same feeling of discomfort brings us together and I remember who I'm looking at. Do you have a happy life? No one answers.