Before Tomorrow, Flash Fiction

The things you do to curate an authentic self in the modern world

Skelt's Combat in Henry M. Milner's Chevy Chase, 1837, Folger Shakespeare Library

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These days, you take the times you know your name as a win. It didn’t use to be like that. From what you can’t remember, it didn’t use to be like anything.

You tell yourself, That’s good. You tell yourself, That’s great…way to go.

Before, when days weren’t even really days, you had no idea who you were even talking to. Conceptually, you’re not quite sure who you are feeling good for or for what or why, but you do your best to ignore that and bask in that little bit of sunshine anyway. That feels fantastic.

You’re in good health, or at least feel you are; you were told as much that one time at the doctor. There’s enough money in the bank from a job you work to keep the lights and the heat on; enjoy some food and maybe even a drink (or two) before tomorrow. Sometimes you see friends, dabble in sports with certainly no professional aspirations or hope for glory. This fact has gone from depressing to something akin to pain receding. Anyways, you do it for exercise, for your hips.