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Quarters

It’s a quarter past six in the morning; a quarter before dawn and, I’m allowing myself another hour in the sheets. My reasoning – I have nowhere to rush to. I wait for the alarm that rings two quarters after dawn, contemplating on whether I should switch it off before and get off as per new schedules or wait for it and then proceed to start the day. The conflict is more so on whether I’m confident I won’t let the extra quarters carry me away or would the waiting waste away the extra quarters. I’m not sure if this is considered middle ground but I mute the backup alarms to vibrate and close my eyes to hum a song my tongue turns to by default. The song is of an era a few generations before mine with a trend of today that has preppy beats to melancholic emotions. The tune caught my attention before the lyrics but I hum it more often today for the latter.Β 

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Inbox

We made each other mixtapes in the time of MP4s and iPods. Through ballads, jazz, pop and the occasional EDM, we explored each other’s worlds through the mundane emotions that were life in itself. In the time of social media, we were emails detailing the weeks that passed subjected to opening lines. We were stolen conversations and scheduled talks about school, family, and future. We knit safe nets at our desks for the other without letting them know, slowly meeting somewhere in between through our stitches and knots that made patterns of their own and a picture together. We celebrated silver linings and sighed for lost causes while never forgetting to hype the medals.Β 

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A Reconnaissance in Rhetorical