Me, The Moon, Or The Rain To Blame

I only realized that I’d gotten on the wrong bus when I crossed the threshold joining the front half of the bus to the back. This was a trait that I recognized from the Local buses- the Expresses were typically short enough that they did not require accordion seams in order to turn corners. Somehow I had failed to notice that the bus was twice as long as usual on the outside, in spite of standing and staring at it for ten minutes before walking the entire forementioned length of it in order to get to the door.

It was one of those days.

My energy levels fluctuated between Hummingbird-On-Meth, and Dead. I may or may not have spent an hour in the mid-afternoon working with my eyes closed. My attention was all over the map, both in content and duration. The only thing about me that seemed to be consistently keen was my sense of smell, that was dialed up to eleven and bombarded on all sides by menfolk steeped in cologne, hand lotion (“Suede” scented, apparently. It smells like the eye doctor’s office) and hair product. Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s the moon.Maybe it’s the recent rains that’ve changed the atmosphere. Whatever the reason, I could probably track fugitives right now. Certainly if they are as enthusiastic about their lotions and potions as my co-workers are.

~ by Gwydhar Gebien on February 28, 2018.

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