“What goes on inside your head?” says she.

My head?

I consider heading off the question, so I do.

I laugh, and head off up the corridor, keeping up appearances, not being quite right, not being at all right, not being right – in my head.

Screwed up paper, a massive ball of it, heads at me – coming at me, coming at me from around the bend.

I watch as the ball unfurls.  Unfurled paper, straightening out into messages not quite right.

Not right messages; not-right for-me messages.

Messages curling back up.

Messages lobbing themselves into my head.

Holding onto my head, and aware of the core of it unfurling, I crouch down and scrunch

myself up into massive ball – lobbing myself around the bend.

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, March 2019

Published by The Silly-Savvy Salopian

Freelance writer and descendant of the cave dweller and outlaw, Humphrey Kynaston. Banished from Shropshire for my eccentricity, I have made my home in Suffolk. I write poetry, short stories, travel journals, comedy gig reviews and non-fiction articles. My wish is to write my way back into the heart of my birth land. All writing commissions (and free holidays in Shropshire!) considered.

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