my dad told me he was dying. not in any way thats urgent.
more a shorter life expectancy than planned.
i’ve been feeling numb since.
i write this while i’m eating noodles, so my metaphors are food based and the feeling looks like the broth. slightly cloudy but mostly transparent. the occasional flash of “my father will die soon”, followed by nothing.
my instagram keeps recommending me this video of jake gyllenhaal, talking about his wife dying in an accident. he confides that he never truely loved her. it then cuts to him demolishing a kitchen. i didn’t really understand it the first few times it played but now i understand it. it’s about the broth.
a few days ago at a family mart, the clerk stopped me before i left. she ran to the aisle and grabbed a pack of plasters and took my hand. applying it to my cracked knuckles she gives me a little smile and says “better”
i keep thinking about this moment.
when i came back a few days later, she called me over and took my hand again to check on it. she beamed back at me “better”.
the interaction has made me afraid to go near the shop again. like in some way she cares too much. i worry i’ll cry if i see her.
27.01.2026 - family mart