sore neck

It hurt, but I didn't want it to stop. They said it might be some kind of virus, a small thing lodged in a gland in the neck. I had felt this way before though, and probably it was the stress of existential angst, of knowing that there really was no point to any of it. The weight of realisation, pressing on my right shoulder.

On the story bridge I glanced to the right and there could have been a truck coming but all I could see was a tiny glimpse to the next lane. I changed lanes blind on my motorcycle and almost liked the thrill of such a risk.

And it hurt. Did I mention that it had been hurting all week? I didn't really complain and no one really noticed.

"Is your neck still hurting?" He asked once in the supermarket and I nodded.

"I'm on the Neurophen."

They took time off work for less than this, a sniffle, or a moment of weariness. I turned my whole body to look at them and I wondered why I was here at all, what with my sore neck and my attitude and my inability to be nice to one more person before the end of a shift.

But I didn't want you to stop, even when it hurt and it made it harder to concentrate. I turned on my stomach and that seemed to make it worse but I wouldn't ever ask you to stop. And I refused to miss out. Even with the throb of it and the tensing of the muscles in my back. Even then, don't stop now. Please don't stop now. It might be days before we have the opportunity again and I find the pain of missing your body is more than a small stiffness in my neck.