His Long Pause
Because the world is round, it rotates and days accrue. Because days accrue, he begins to feel the weight. He feels the weight because more and more days accrue and he feels that his best days are gone. Because he feels that his best days are gone he feels regret. He feels regret because of the choices that he made, and he takes them apart one by one, and he feels tired. Because he feels tired one day he cannot get up. Because he cannot get up he sleeps. When he can sleep no more he turns.
It is not that the job means nothing. The job has meaning but he cannot get up. He might prefer to go to the job but he feels the weight. He feels the weight because he is stuck back in time. At some point it occurs to him that he needs to eat. He needs to eat to live. There is light outside and it is bright. Around one or two he rises and makes his way to the cupboard, where he finds and opens a can of beans. He could turn on the television but he does not. There is light in the window and he looks out it, at all the people moving outside. They are always outside, always moving. He pours himself a glass of water and drinks. He eats half the can of beans and then he is not hungry anymore, not much. There is dust in the air. He returns to bed.
Work will call today, he thinks, and they do, and he does not answer. The machine sounds happy, happy to handle the call. They wonder where he is, and why he hasn’t called back. They say they are worried. Does it matter? They called yesterday too. They might call tomorrow. They might stop calling. He’s not really waiting for a call from her. He expects nothing of her. Also gone like other things. Someday soon he will have to go out and get food. He will run out, and he will need to eat. He turns up the heating, just a little, to make the room warm. He turns and tries to sleep. There is only yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that, and so on. He will not stop or go on. Time is like this sometimes. It will continue like this for a while. And then.