Botanical Garden Believes In You

“Discriminatory, uncultured braggart,” He said to himself and closed the laptop. The nearby mirror made it look as if he was actually saying that about himself. The next sentence, however, made it clearer. “Why does she have to brag all the time, every time? People can’t afford that stuff…I mean, look at me! Look!”

On a day with no sleep, thoughts about death are more common. How it would be convenient to plan it, so nothing ever created or made is lost. How having one or both of the parents die someday will be living hell, because the doctors don’t come for old people when you call the ambulance. On a day with no sleep, people like Nasia S. are even more annoying.

It was hard to believe that somebody like Nasia came from one of Darko’s favourite countries, where the sun shines, people are nice and everything. It was often hard to believe that Nasia was real – a seemingly well-to-do middle-aged woman with no children, a job in politics and constant excursions in the “Europe is my playground” spirit, with a bunch of stories to tell that only happen to people in novels. That was not happening in real life. That was not the typical description of somebody who spent their time on message boards.

Now, that was the kind of a person never to like. And it was not even about hypothetical money and trips. Nasia had about zero empathy for other people, especially those like him – with a brief and turbulent history of a medical record the first letter of its code being a F. F like failure. F like fairly scary.

F like Friday.

He sighed and looked at the calendar. It was indeed a Friday, the end of April, an unusually warm day that should have been spent doing something smarter. The last thing he needed was another checkup. Especially when the checkup was delayed. He had gone to the doctor’s office earlier, solely to find out that the unknown caller from the other day was the nurse and that the checkup was delayed for two hours. The nurse grinned, said something in the lines of “honey, you should always pick up your phone, whether you recognise the number or not” and told him that there was a club downstairs. He refused to go there, it was too warm on the ground floor and he could only imagine what it had been like there in the basement.

On his way back home, he saw pigeons eat vomit on the fence of the botanical garden. Thirty metres further, there was a graffiti – “Botanical garden believes in you.” Now, that was different.

“Somebody believes in me…or something,” He thought to himself and grabbed the outdated pocket camera to take a photo. The little thing, its sides tied with a rubber band, had a memory card full of various little oddities curated by his curious eye, as seen all around the city. But this must have been one of the funniest so far. Enough to brighten a day, at least until sources of irritation, such as persistent negative thoughts and the fact that Nasia exists set in.

Agi in the summer cage, at night

Nasia is inspired by a source of occasional irritation I am not that pleased to know.

Darko is a common name here, so it's nothing fancy.

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