Box by Hind

She hands me two papers, clumsily stapled together. I ask her for a pen. At first, she acts like she hasn’t heard my question. I’m just another number, another person who was careless enough to show up without a pen. But something in the way I stood there at the counter made her look back. Maybe it was my face, because it usually reminds people of someone familiar. And no matter how much you want to, you can’t ignore someone you know.

She points to a corner, where a cap-less pen lies stranded on a table. I walk over and place my paper next to it. Five boxes, five questions. Five minutes to fill out the form.  Continue reading