2
He sings.
A-B-C-D-E-F-
He pauses.
Listens to the dripping
in the kitchen sink.
G-H-I-J-K-L-
Pauses again.
Listens to the ticking
of the clock on the kitchen wall.
M-N-O-P-Q-R-
Pauses again.
Looks up to the ceiling.
Thinks. Blinks. Frowns.
Trying to figure out something.
"What comes after R again?"
he hollers out, his face
red with irritation, frustration.
"And I am not eating this soup
until I get my Spiderman suit!"
he protests, pushing the bowl away.
His wife steps closer
wipes his lips dry,
pushes the bowl back near him,
kisses his forehead,
heaves a heavy sigh, shakes her head,
then goes back to the sink
to continue washing the dishes.
Papa Osmubal writes from Macau, Southern China.
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