Receipts were proof that I lived today.

I leave the supermarket.

While switching the bag to my other hand,

I take the receipt.

Some days I put it in my wallet.

Some days I just shove it into my pocket.

Before I know it,

it sometimes ends up left on my desk.

I return home.

I put the milk in the fridge.

I put away the vegetables.

I line up the bread.

The room,

had returned to its usual silence.

In my hand,

only a single receipt remains.

The old me,

thought of them,

as "paper that had already served its purpose."

That is what I thought.

Once the shopping was done,

their role was over.

So,

I would throw them away without a second thought.

But,

one day,

I looked back at them casually.

Milk.

Eggs.

Bread.

Yogurt.

Tomatoes that were a little bit expensive.

Lined up there,

are just product names.

And yet,

when I look at that single slip,

I even remember the scenery of that day.

The voice I heard at the register,

saying, "Thank you very much."

The slightly chilly air of the air conditioning.

The weight of the shopping bag.

The twilight sky.

What I remembered,

wasn't what I bought.

It was myself,

having properly lived through that day.

I couldn't do anything.

I couldn't move forward today.

There were days when I thought that way.

Even so,

I thought about dinner,

went to the supermarket,

chose what I needed,

and came back home.

I thought about dinner,

went to the supermarket,

chose what I needed,

and came back home.

Just by doing that,

I was properly,

living through today.

Receipts were not

just proof of payment.

They were proof that I

truly lived this day.

From that day on,

the hand that threw away receipts

became,

just a little bit, gentler.

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