Not Thirsty

I filled the glass

and put it on the counter.

Didn't drink it.

The range hood light was on—

I leave it on when I'm working late,

some idea about not being in the dark.

It made the pan from dinner

yellow.

The pan I hadn't washed.

I stood there for—

I don't know. Twenty minutes.

The clock on the microwave said 2:17

when I looked up.

I wasn't thirsty.

I don't know why I came in here.

There was a deadline I'd been avoiding

open on the laptop in the other room.

I could hear the fan.

I looked at the glass.

I looked at the pan.

I looked at the microwave clock.

I went back to the laptop.

The glass of water was still there

in the morning.