there is a faint buzzing that refuses to leave my body, only retreating when i reach for my headphones and a worn down football. i can always count on 2000s bollywood to get me out of a funk, and of course, a bath. I like the ritual of making myself clean; the water washing the stench of inadequacy off me. i should go swimming i think, for the 23rd time in the same month. wasn't summer a few days ago? i remember the stickiness of the mango dribbling down my chin. as a kid, it would have been enough to make me forget.
instead, i sip my frooti; our diluted versions taking comfort in each other.
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