An outlet, sticky battlefront of crumbs.
I’ve been staring into space for —
Sorry, what? No, absolutely.
No, it’s fine, no ones sitting—
Have I read a single word? Or,
Just silently bored holes into the negative spaces that make up the letters
On the page-
I think the later, re: the letters. Hah.
My phone tempts me with an anxious cry.
Oooh, an email? Who from?
What would happen if I hit reply anyway, @donotreply
Would I be in deep shit?
With your email service?
Let’s find out.
We could just
But what a waste of an hour, a whole wasted hour of our increasingly limited — no, don’t go there.
Dangerous existentialism : coffee ratio.
I push my glasses up my face to further chafe the bridge of my nose.
Bridge of noses.
Forty-seven minutes gone.
No use starting something now.
Yes, what a waste of an hour.
Were you really even an hour?
Or just a dream?
An oxymoron of rest, abandoning me right as I’ve settled in.
Leaving me with nothing but neck pain,
a throbbing hunk of meat flesh inside a cavernous skull,
And one fewer hours to waste.