Rat

 I walk to work for the first time. It's slow going. My foot feels okay, but I still have to wear the huge plastic and foam cast. It looks like a robot's foot, and has a compression pump inside which stopped working almost immediately. God knows what it cost me; I don't have the courage to look at my medical bills yet, but I know I'll have to soon. I have a week off from the doctor, which is nice, though I'm terrified that when I do see him he'll tell me I'm not actually better, that I need to get back off my foot. Until I get a clean bill of health from him, I'm not willing to allow myself to start feeling things. My shell is still up, though I've been feel it starting to crack, allowing emotions to sneak through. I get choked up watching Antiques Roadshow, and actually burst into tears struggling to tear the wrapping from a frozen burrito. I come close to screaming at a co-worker who I find not wearing a mask while they clean the microwave, screaming into their phone the entire time. People ask me how I'm doing and I say, you know. And they nod. Like everyone, I am trying so hard to be patient, and the effort is exhausting. There's very little energy left for niceties.

But for now, I'm walking, or rather, shambling, to work. My unnatural gait makes my back and legs ache, but it's worth it to be off the scooter. I clomp across all the bumps and cracks which just yesterday would have caused me trouble. I can step right off the edge of the curb, though stepping up onto it still requires some effort. Not having to watch where I'm going as closely, I start to be able to notice the world again. I see the city lights, looking especially bright and colorful against the black sky. I see a row of peanuts which look like they have been placed on the ground to lure some animal. I see a man with glowing nipples -some sort of harness of LED lights strapped to his chest. Right in front of the museum I see a huge dead rat. As I get closer, I see that it's only a discarded mask. I step right over it.