This is the first of a series. Each short story is inspired by a music album. The following is inspired by ‘Modern Life is Rubbish’ by Blur.
Summer rain could freeze your toes. The clouds made it hard to tell if the sun had risen, but alarm clocks blared when they were told to, and watches stayed conveniently on wrists and out of a pickpocket’s reach if you were clever. A grey veil hung over the street that had more potholes than road. The car driving by splashed water from the curb onto you, the pedestrian. Overgrown grass nibbled at your calves from either side of the path and dribbled water down into your socks. Your leather shoes were flimsy from years of this and did nothing to prevent the puddles from creeping in.
Early mornings were like this.
It was January, and yesterday was thirty-six degrees, but your feet were wet and itchy and still very much cold. On the bus, you found that your morning paper had disintegrated on the sidewalk somewhere, so you read over the shoulder of the older gentleman in the seat in front. It didn’t last long; the letters were miniscule and there were only so many blaring headings to care about. He skipped the sports spread, straight to crosswords.
Early mornings were like this.
You hated being late. Hated it. Went to bed with your watch on your wrist and awoke with it at your eyes. You counted down the seconds until you had to set foot out the front door, but arrived at the bus stop before you finished. Rainy days were slow days as the buses tried not to slip and slide on the downhill, so when you stepped off the bus, crossed the main road, walked one-hundred meters, give or take, and checked your watch again, you were pleased with yourself.
You looked up at the sunless sky; it could be six or eleven in the morning. It could be two in the afternoon. It didn’t bother you much, because you spent the seconds to the new year setting your watch to the atomic clock instead of watching the fireworks. Then you set your microwave clock, bathroom clock and alarm clock to your watch. The alarm clock had been ringing for a while. You hoped for early mornings to linger, drag on, so mid-morning wouldn’t come and midday wouldn’t follow. The sun wouldn’t set, and you wouldn’t have to do it all over again and again and again and again, brought to life by incessant ringing over and over and over and over and
Early mornings are like this.
You wake up, and you already know you’re going to be late. There’s no time left to linger.
