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Het podium van vanavond · Dit jaar
I gave the courier the address and one peony. He buzzed. She came down. He handed it to her, didn't speak, walked away. He sent me one photograph: her closing the door, holding it. That's the entire receipt. I framed the photograph. He doesn't know I framed it.
Three hours. A backstory we wrote together, four photographs of "us" from 2003 that I doctored myself, one rehearsed inside joke. He held the line. My husband couldn't place him for forty minutes and didn't want to say so. He's still telling that story. He still doesn't know.
Two-state errand, one ring, one envelope marked "too late", no note inside. The fulfiller drove eleven hours overnight, parked two blocks away, walked, dropped, walked back. Photographed the mail slot from across the street. I framed the photograph. I never told him. He still asks where the ring went. I still don't answer.
Erelijst
Zie je die van jou er niet bij?