Drinking Coffee Somewhere

Tick tick tick. God I hate time. It's predictably regular and annoyingly inexorable. Time does not take a coffee break. And if you happen to take one, well, you've been left behind and will have to leap into the future to get back on track. That lump of Time you jumped over will never be yours. It's gone, and all you can do is shrug and get back on the line.

Why is she writing this nonsense?

Reader, you will know in due time. That word again.

It's a bright Sunday morning; everyone's asleep. So calm and peaceful. I took my anti-bone crumbling pill an hour ago and then busied myself until I could have my first cup of coffee. I disinfected the sink, which seemed like a noble if mindless thing to do. I read my email, only to find that a friend from another lifetime died on March 13. Sharon also liked to drink coffee, and often brewed me a cup or two. Sharon is off the timeline now, permanently exited and no longer subject to its rules.

Would you have me weep at this news instead of dispassionately reporting it? I cannot do so many things at once. After all, I'm drinking coffee and worried about where those seconds and minutes are going. If only I could scoop them up and put them in the pocket of my wool robe to nestle with the moist crumpled tissues, safely stored and ready to be used as needed at some future date.

Don't worry, I'm not going to get all carpe diem on you, although if that's how you wish to interpret my words, be my guest. I'm still drinking coffee and thinking about Sharon, how she was smart and an excellent cook, and possessed a bullshit-blasting wit.

I will now re-enter the mortal coil, which in spite of its three-dimensional circular aspect, cannot shake Time.