It’s two a.m. The emergency room psychiatrist looks up from his clipboard with eyes paid to care and asks me if I see people who aren’t really there. I say, “I see people how the hell am I supposed to know if they’re real or not?” He doesn’t laugh neither do I. The math’s not on my side ten stitches and one lie. I swear I wasn’t trying to die. I just wanted to see what my pulse looked like from the inside.
My grandmother is from Poland and there, they have this tradition, that on Christmas Eve they set the table for one person extra, so that if someone without a house to be in and food to eat, they can have christmas dinner too, if they come knocking on the door.
I live in Denmark, but she has taught us about this, and I find it very beautiful.