slice of life

"Say your name and what you did today" is a simple and reasonable introduction for a second round of a writing course with some new members in it.*

"My name is Terje. I had meetings all day, and I came from a dentist, my left cheek is completely numb and I can't smile no matter how hard I try," was probably not the best first impression. I should have added that I might have had a concussion from the hammering the dentist did inside my mouth, making me feel as if my scull would shatter to thousand pieces, making me ready to spill all the undercover spy secrets if I had any, and making "this is a bit uncomfortable" into a massive understatement. It would have been a sensible thing to go home after the dentist. That would have meant sitting and feeling sorry for myself for the rest of the evening. Being in a lovely bookshop, reading and writing, even with some aftermath of dental procedures, promised a positive end to a rather long day.

We finished the introduction rounds and the teacher was giving out a poem to read, when I heard familiar voices in the gallery passage behind the bookstore windows. I peeked over my shoulder.

My boss and two school visitors from a morning meeting walked by. They did not look in through the window, so they did not see me sitting behind a large square table, with a journal and a poem in front of me, and a slightly awkward look on my face.  Slice of my life.


*Almost a month ago I thought my writing lessons were finished for good.
Since the interest was really high, the teacher decided to have five more lessons with us.