Simon Linington, Fall, 2018 | Courtesy of the artist
I sit on a chair whilst she stands opposite me. Her looking at me and me looking at her. Neither of us is moving.
“Are we?” I say.
“Yes Simon, we are,” she replies.
“Look Simon, I’m sorry.”
The front left leg of the chair I sit on gives way and I fall at her feet with arms stretched out in front of me. She says nothing. I get up, brush my palms together and reposition the leg under the chair. I sit back down slowly.
She looks at me a moment before turning to walk toward the door. Pulling it open she hesitates and looks back over her shoulder.
“Please close the door. Properly I mean.”
She raises her eyebrows and brings her left hand up to her hip.
“Close the door properly, I don’t know what might come in.”
The door clicks shut and she has gone.