Minute 7:10 AM

Wednesday February 16, 2011

Minute 7:10 AM

The sound of his phone vibrating reaches Aaron's exposed ear, gets
modeled in his head by chemicals. Just timeless moments ago the same
signal had arrived. But then it was with those drums, accompanied.
That meant it was an alarm. That meant it deserved the same response
as a mosquito. Extinguishing.

This is just one vibration. Night Aaron didn't plan this. Trip-wires
are snapping across the unconscious wilderness in the dark. What could
cause this. It could be a text message. But it's early. Who would do
that? Is it Aaron's boss? His teacher? His classmate? Those could be
dealt with effectively by further sleeping, maybe.

It could be a text message from that girl, that one who used to send
pleasant text messages, up until not so long ago. The deer in the
subconscious pick up their heads and smell the air. The conscious mind
whirrs into action. Rotate head. Eyes open. The blue box floating over
the clock radio blinks out. Too late. Couldn't see what it said.

But it could be that girl.

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