Cling by Elijah Rivera

There it is, awaiting my quotidian visit in its humble five by five domain. The oracle, the one who can look into my mind, and show me what it sees. The water embraces me, flowing like the conversation between two old friends.

“Hello again”

“You like hot water too? I love to watch the steam rise and feel the water hit me”

“Yes, I do think that if you had said that to your coworker, you would have easily won the argument”

Then I feel you. A sudden jolt and you’ve entered the conversation, not with a hello, but with a slap to the face. My partner continues to speak, but I can no longer hear them, your presence is deafening. You too are one that I have known for years but I can’t call you a friend. Yet it is you who keeps the conversation private. So here you are, clinging, and I cannot stop you. I push, I kick, I ignore. I hope you return to where you belong. A forced exodus and you seem reluctant to stay in the promised land. So now, as the conversation begins again, enveloping me in warmth and wisdom, you return to me as vulgar as ever. I guess that is what your creator ordained for you. I cannot not fault you for fulfilling your purpose, you were always destined to cling.