05
Oct
10

…heave

Simple words etched on a note: noon by the rock.  He crumpled the post-it and heaved a long three that carom onto the floor. It was half-past 11, and in a Pavlonian urge, he looked out the window. Grey and dank; from inside. Outside the sunless sky bore a fresh stillness hidden from others, as if to keep people indoors to keep its award for the ones who sought it.

15-till noon: his step slowed to an awkward limp. Each step towards noon at the rock masked a deafening bass line from within. Will it be the same he thought. Will it be better? Will it matter? His limp stooped into shaky baby steps, as he saw the rock. 5-till noon.

He could make out the silhouette from before. The salty sweetness pursed his lips.  The gaze. The intensity.

Noon: standing silently inside his room, wakened from the ring of the phone, he opened the crumpled note, and looked outside again.  It was noon.

Jam of the Day: Say Hello, Say Goodbye – David Gray

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