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The morning was passing by slowly for her. It was as if each second had tripled and time was moving at its own pace that’s slower than her. It was terrifying. She was the one behind and it felt absolutely wrong to be ahead. She felt as if she was a prisoner, cuffed, and time was the man of the law, pointing a gun at her head and following her patiently with confidence. She felt helpless. Choked.
That was her morning.
She choked in her shower and it ended up being 40 minutes long.
She choked down her breakfast, which was leftover oatmeal from two mornings ago.
She choked while waiting for her bus to school.
And she really choked when she realized she had forgotten her tumbler of coffee at her side table in the foyer. Those side tables, she cursed. She then went over all the times she had forgotten her coffee or keys, or important documents on that side table. She cursed under her breath and then she cursed time.
The bus ride felt jerkier and longer by each minute. When she looked out to the world, the next block swerved to go out of focus, and when it was back in focus to her eyes, the block had extended. Then the bus would have to travel the extended block. She thought it was her that was causing the problem. Momentary mind fuck that she created! But each time she turned away from the window, blinked, then looked out again, the same would happen. It wasn’t her problem.
It was real.
Time was behind her and she was not running late.
She was just getting stretched and time was playing with her.
Through many hours of the morning like this, by the time she arrived at her school, her energy had depleted. Her strength gone.
She was heavy and felt like a lump of seaweed that needed to be squeezed and dried so that it could be light and crispy again.