Enlightened Time

So I’m just hanging out, the usual, y’know—Being, when I hear the crunch of footsteps.

Next thing I know there’s this guy getting in my face. I quickly deduce that he’d rushed out of the house without his usual morning coffee.

I have to get to work, get the hell outta of my way. Why the hell do I need to deal with this existential bullshit this morning?

I point out to him that I am not in his way—quite over to the side actually—and that I wasn’t quite sure why he saw me as an impediment.

This what I get for taking a different path tonight, huh?!
Heading to the Tuskegee Airmen Depot on 100th and Lex. Third shift, graveyard, MTA. Just taking this shortcut through the park. I don’t need my head messed with.

I throw out the possibility that perhaps I might be of some help.

Yeah, yeah I know how it’s supposed to be. If I meet you I’m supposed to kill you.

He’s not thrilled with my smile in response, nor my suggestion that being too literal gets us in trouble.

He raves on, now waving his hands.
They’re sanitizing my bus now. And Tony is out this week so the shift is tight. All that dental work is going to hit the next paycheck. And the damn passengers without masks . . .

I give a short shout, and apply a light smack to the side of his head—accompanied by an extra gentle, empathic smile.
One hand slapping — that’s what you get when you get too literal—I tease.

But he’s stunned. That’s good. Snapped out of it.
We stand in the Moment.

Now don’t wander away into all that again.
Yer killin’ me. Grin.
Come closer. Closer. Even closer . . .

For a moment I stood there, stunned—the emptiness and silence of the park in all directions around me. I took that deep breath I needed.

Then I casually went on my way to the Depot.

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© AleXander Hirka 2020. All Rights Reserved.

Read RemingtonWrite’s version here:

In August 2020, I set myself the challenge of creating a daily digital collage based on an image and a concept. The image was that of the antique Omega watch that belonged to my Mom and the concept was Time.
In September 2020, the Anomalous Duo is challenging themselves to write a short piece of fiction for each collage—the Our Hours project.

Writer, visual artist, philosopher, autodidact, curmudgeon. More than half of what i do is make believe. https://alexanderhirka.nyc

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