150 words #7

by | Jan 4, 2019 | 150 words | 2 comments

We sat at the kitchen table to fill in his university enrolment. I had started a new skirt, laid the fabric (folded edge-to-edge) across the table, the pattern pieces on top. I didn’t know the offers were out, enrolments suddenly urgent.

He pushed the fabric away as he opened his laptop. I said, ‘Careful! Linen creases.’

He did not hear.

I took a pen and paper and wrote down course codes, times, lecture theatres. He flicked back and forth between the screens, holding numbers in his head, cutting and pasting to virtual sticky notes and apps I don’t know. I fell behind, pen and paper no match for apps.

I said (over and over again), ‘When I enrolled we stood at trestle tables and handed over our forms and people who terrified us stamped them and pushed them back at us across the table.’
He did not hear.

2 Comments

    • Tracy Crisp

      True, I’ve often been guilty of it myself

      Reply

Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Previously on the blog