There are days that pass as if they were nothing, seconds, when the desk is not a desk, when the screen is not a flat buzzing blue machine, when the world I enter is the only world, and I go there, willingly, a hostage.
Then there is today.
Getting up late. Starting late. The office is out of coffee. Dressed too warmly again. No one eats my leftover artichoke dip. So much work to do.
But you push through like swimmers turn. A breath, a kick, and then they are over it, going back, on the other side. The clear blue air, a spash, the chemical sheen. The trip home is always faster.
I remember what they call those horses, the ones that run once in sight of the barn. Barners, I think.
I was nearly carried away.
Finally it is over. Finally there is the next scene, the new scene. Fresh with no mistakes in it, as Anne of Green Gables says.
Goodbye chapter seven. So long, you sucker.