Bookmark #936

In the morning, I woke up and realised I had wasted a few hours, and waste is perhaps the wrong word. Stolen seems to be a more appropriate way to describe the additional hours of sleep cut abruptly due to a dream. So, I ultimately got nothing out of my crime against the world, and when I woke up, I was tired already and wanted to try again. But there were no mulligans in store today, so I began the day and had a few meetings with people living in cities I have never heard the names of, and this guy told me about how he caught the last bit of snow before it all melted off in spring, and I tried to revel in that second-hand joy—selfishly, of course—and I could not, and so, I spent the day staring at the dark brown, inching towards slaty, coffee in the beige cup one after the other until I got all exhausted and then, I watched reruns of a show I have watched a thousand times before, and if the hyperbole is a bit too generous, then I am sure a “couple of times” is a good measure.

In the evening, I walked to the nearby cafe and on my way there, I noticed that the trees were still blossoming, that the streets were filled with flowers and petals, and that there were heaps of it at equal intervals, which made me think about how the invisible workers are always making sure our lives go smoothly. And then, I began to think about how I have always played life by the ear and had no plan, that now, perhaps, I am getting tired of it all. I craved a plan, some grand answer for a little bit before my atheism knocked the wind out of me and reminded me that the safest hands were still my own. But I did think about how the hundreds of people I have met so far who have adamantly defended their lack of agency in life have fared. I wondered if they, too, have faced the hours of unforgiving silence for every little bit of music celebrated.

When I reached the cafe, I read for exactly thirty minutes, and out of habit, I checked how much money I had made by now. The number had grown, and I thought it was a good thing for a moment. Then, I realised I was sitting there alone, so to avoid feeling hollow, I stared out at the street right ahead of me through the glass wall of the cafe.

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