Three hundred metres away

Because I know me I try to avoid it, I pretend not to hear, I pretend not to see. Because I know me and I know the consequences I try not to be visible, not to go noticed, not to give rise to it. But it is unavoidable. An innocent doubt, a map of absent-mindedness, makes sprout in my inner an irrational something that smells the rain in the air, looks for the cardinal points, talks non stop and, whatever the question is, always answers: three hundred metres away.