Thursday, November 10, 2011

The Dish and the Spoon - 1

There I sat, listening to the soft humming sound of the vacuum cleaner as the man in the gray shirt pushed it along, cleaning the carpet of the dining area. The windows became translucent mirrors around us as the last rays of sunlight turned into the blackness of the falling twilight and sleepy frustrated students massaged their temples before the glowing screens of their laptops and the stationary papers scattered across the tables before them. There was a strange collectively calm aura sitting upon the air, a kind of conclusive knowingness that permeated the night air as it drifted through the window panes.

I was paddling my own boat up a creek without a paddle, drifting away between the soreness of my bones for having supported my weight standing for so long and the heaviness of my eyes as they watched their thirtieth hour tick slowly by. They had known no rest, save sporadic breaks and dozing, since I began this project.

No…since this project had been due. I started weeks ago. My inability to follow through and finish something quickly is and will always be my greatest vice.

I pushed the little wisps of hair behind my ear, not because they bothered me but because I knew they were there and needed something productive to do. As if that were true… I knew, or thought I knew, subconsciously, where I needed to be. I thought I might have an idea who I needed to see too. If nothing else, I had to talk to her.

But that would have to wait.

I stood up, packing my things and opened the double door into the cool evening air.

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