AS-The Broken Tiles

The water leaks the neighbours complain- I live in a broken mug It’s early morning. The sun’s rising in the east. I open the door of my room, then the windows. I let the fresh air in. I feel the soothing effect of water on my cheeks. In the nearby hospital the staff’s having their early breakfast. Cats are still asleep under the bushes. A crow is on top of the pine tree, another one’s crowing on the acacia.. Men and women are preparing their vehicles for the megacity’s traffic jam in that oppressive heat. I start the daily chores after a while. I take the eggplants, zucchinis, domatoes, green peppers and whatever vegetable I can hold of, out of the fridge. I’ll be cooking a summer dish which I call summersolstice. Soon potable water delivery man is going to ring the bell. Oh, there’s a knock at the door already, but he’s carrying no demijohn on his shoulder. “Sorry if I disturb you at that hour, but there’re some drops of water leaking into my bathroom from yours.” A shudder runs down my spine; I watch the articulation of this sentence on my neighbour’s mouth, my eyes wide open. His words bursting out rapidly are stumbling over one another. In my perplexity I can realise that I’m going to play the most desperate housewife till the broken tiles will be mended properly. Cats can be meowing the noise of the drill in my head- I only hear the plumber Ayten Suvak