So now I am playing the game of waiting, though it’s not a game so much as it is just waiting. Spending time, killing time, waiting for anything to happen. Waiting for the wheels to flip and the tables to sink, and waiting for the stone to turn gray, washed of its mineral elements… though I guess that if it were, that would mean it would also probably have disintegrated. Look, just imagine a rock that had colour to it and the colour has been washed away by millennia of rain, and it’s still a rock in rock form rather than a fine grainy thing that has probably been blown and scattered by the wind so as to be subsumed by the earth once more, slowly cycled down and further broken down, then eventually, after however long, brought back to the surface in a different configuration to how it once was. Just imagine that.

So anyway, I am waiting. I’m trying to find the time to kill the time, but there is very little that I can do. I am stuck here, waiting. I can hear the low hum of air conditioning, and it seems pervasive in a way. It is pervasive, but it’s just background noise. Continuous, adding everything and adding nothing. The sound is as much furniture in this space as the chair I am currently sitting on.

There’s a stillness and quiet, though it’s office quiet. The sound of chatter before outside silence. The pressing of keys and the clicking of a mouse. The clock moves rapidly and moves at a set pace, and nothing changes as everything changes. Everything keeps moving and nothing moves, and everything is as it was five minutes ago, and will never be the same as it was five minutes ago.

It’s all stillness. All frozen in time. The oxygen atoms hang in space, hardly disturbed. My eyes move from keyboard to screen to keyboard to screen, making sure that I am typing what I want to type. Everything flows and folds, and everything remains as it once was.

I think I might be bored.

I wonder how things will progress from here. There are a few hours left in the day, but there aren’t many hours left in the day. Everything seems against itself, but nothing moves and nothing changes. A small fridge sticks out, the clock moves, I sit here. I sit here and I think about the space, and I continue to wait. I continue to bide my time, hoping for change, finding none. Finding it all, but not the change that I am after. I am after things that involve progress, and the change that comes is not the progress I am after. And it’s all here and all the same, and I get older and find myself slipping away into a grand nothingness, and that’s fine by me. I’m still tethered to this seat, and once action happens, I’ll be back in the room to get started.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 07:01:60

This one was a bit more fun to write than the one prior, and I think that’s good. A little bit of removing the weight of sadness.

Written at work.