Black Eye

No one at work has asked me about my black eye today. I wonder if they think I’m being beaten at home and they’re afraid to ask me about it because it might reduce me to tears or fits of hysterics. Or maybe they don’t want to force me into a corner where I begin to tell lie upon lie to maintain the status quo and avoid embarrassing myself or the person who hit me.

But I work at a social service agency. Surely if anyone is going to care enough to ask, that person will be right here.

Of course, I’m not being beaten. I injured myself at rugby practice last night when the guy running in front of me slammed into a goal post and I slammed into him.

It’s just a wee thing. Just a little bruising on my cheek.

I think it’s funny that I should get my first rugby shiner at my last rugby practice. Well, my last practice for a few months, anyway. Most of my teammates don’t know I’m taking this next season off.


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the untallied hours

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