Any little thing would set him off.
I could see in his eyes
There was no way of calming him.
All I wanted was to go home.
I had plans.
The flexi-cuffs, they were so tight.
I just wanted them off my wrists
Through most of the journey.
He never stopped talking;
A recorded message on continuous loop.
I couldn't see much under the blanket,
Just the floorboard.
Heard him rattle a cooler and crack open a beer.
'Got cha, finally. Mine.'
Spearmint gum and cigarettes too.
Worse, I could smell him, his cologne.
I concentrated on my own scent under the blanket.
The perfume I wore.
Estee Lauder's Beautiful.
Just not today.
I hope I never smell him
Or his cologne ever again.
It was like... Like it wasn't real.
I tried to remember real things.
Began to turn my wedding ring around.
The little girl, on my way out of work.
The one staring at the mood rings
And other jeweler in the machine.
'Which one do you want?'
She hesitated before pointing
At a ring near the front.
The wind grew stronger.
It brought the rain along for company.
I could hear it against the windows.
The metalwork, it soothed;
Took away the evil chatter.
I put two quarters in the slot.
'Give it a good moody spin
If you want a moody ring.'
She turned the mechanism.
A necklace dropped out at the bottom.
'Surely you want to be in a better mood
Than just a good mood. Try again.'
I dropped some more coins in the slot.
She looked at me quizzically.
Then her brow furrowed,
Like she felt pressured to deliver a ring.
She turned the mechanism again.
This time she got her mood ring.
She turned towards me; smiled.
'Thank you,' she said. Twice.
'Which hand do you think I should put it on;
The left, or the right?'
'Definitely your right;' I told her,
That feels like the right thing to do.'
She giggled.
'Don't ever let that ring tell you
What kind of mood to be in; okay?'
'Okay.'
I watched her walk away, feeling good.
Not knowing my mood would soon deteriorate.
The girl reminded me of Nina.
I didn't want to think about my niece.
Not here.
But I needed something.
The windmill.
‘Like a snowball down a mountain,
Or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that's turning
Running rings around the moon.’
~Bergman, Legrand
