AMARIS
The box has been sitting on the edge of the bathtub for four minutes.
I know it has been four minutes because I have been watching the little clock on the shelf instead of the box, which tells you everything about my current strategic position. The clock ticks. The box sits. The grout between the floor tiles runs in long grey lines that I have now studied closely enough to testify about under oath. There is a hairline crack in the third tile from the door. I never noticed it before today. I could draw it from memory now.
I am aware that not looking at the box is not a strategy.
I am aware the result finished developing three minutes ago and became permanent, that it is the result whether I witness it or not, that the two little windows on that stick do not require an audience to mean what they mean. I am a reasonably intelligent woman. I am aware of all of this.
I am still not looking at it.
