La prisonnière

That morning, it was well after everywhere was locked down, I woke up and was looking for you. I had been dreaming, about myself, in another place, far away, foreign. I cannot pinpoint what I was doing there, for a while I was asleep, in a small cluttered room, some sort of study with a narrow couch. When I woke up, a man was sitting, his back to me, working at a desk on a computer. It was still dark, a nearly full moon, bright as diamond, was high in the January sky. I felt sympathy for the man, perhaps even more, as if he was someone I knew. The man was typing at a keyboard, I could hear him sigh a few times. I cannot tell you what he was writing. I decided to move, picked up my clothes, tidied the couch where I’d slept and went out. I was back here, I don’t think that man noticed me going.

Image: Rimel Neffati