A Perfect Day

Perfect Moment 022



Everything is perfect. For some reason that worries me. The hills, the breeze, the grass and clover, the eyebright so tiny…

Why is this unsettled feeling growing so fast? Is there something dangerous nearby? I look around, left, right, spin round. I bite my lip, hands clenched, fear mounting with every accelerated heartbeat.

No … all is perfect. Calm … grass waving, a kestrel high up and studying the ground. Maybe I’m only worried by the possibility of something spoiling this peace. Perfection can be fragile.

The heavens are wonderful blues. Ultramarine right above, cobalt a little further down and fringed with cerulean over distant hills. Almost choking wafts of gorse blossom scent make the air heavy to breathe.

A tiny lizard scuttles across a drystone wall, stops, sucks in sunlight – and then darts into a safe space. I think human voices from along the treeline scared it.

Voices. Are people going to disturb my tranquillity? From around the wall come two police officers and someone dressed in light green … carrying a sheet? Why would anyone want to carry a sheet over the moor?

The police officers look slightly tense as they approach me; the woman in green doesn’t and uses a warm friendly voice, “Morgan, we thought you’d be here as usual. Put this sheet round you.”

Put a sheet on? I look down. I’m naked! How did that happen? Was I undressed all along?

She goes on, “I have your tablets and a bottle of water for you. Will you take your tablets for me?”

The crisp sheet rustles as I pull it tight. “I don’t think I like tablets.”

I do have an injection and will use it if necessary. I’d prefer you just to swallow the tablets.”

I take the pot and she draws the bottle from a pocket. “Well done, Morgan. You were a bit rough with me last time you got out.”

That’s what the police are for I suppose, to hold me down while I receive an injection. Am I insane? … looks like it. Am I violent? No … I’m not! … surely not.

Nothing is perfect now.



©Gary Bonn, 2018