In This Second

Just take a second

In This Second

I’d never understood where time went. My friends and family had always noticed my constant complaining, no matter what the time of day it was always “so late”. It was as if I were getting nothing done but always seemed busy, rushed. Even in my quietest states, hours would disappear in minutes with nothing to stop them, slow them down.

I’d neglected chores, done as little as possible, bored myself to slow the passage. Nothing ever really seemed to work. I found myself constantly late to appointments, meetings, social events to the chagrin of my friends. The stress, at first an uncomfortable sensation in close proximity like the buzz of a stray wasp, became palpable and frantic, a desperate holding on to a cliffs edge by a few fingers. My life ebbed away like a receding tide, time rushed away irretrievable, leaving me high and dry.

In frustration, as a kind of meditative exercise, I had bought an old pocket-watch from the market. To hold on, I watched and listened to its every tick, every scratching click marking another second of existence. I could observe each second become less than it was, the hand ticking by gradually, almost imperceptibly faster, feeling the desperation of time itself mocking my efforts to hold on to it.

For ten minutes, an hour, two hours, I watched the clock, beads of perspiration on my brow as the hours began to pass in mere seconds. Within an hour, two days passed.

Without warning, it stopped. Total silence. My body froze with it, an icy paralysation. As this passed, I looked around me. A moth had held still mid-air, unwilling or unable to continue its purposeless flight. I could examine the position of its wings, admire its beauty. I rose from my seat, staring out of the window to find tiny glass-like shards of rain, droplets hanging frozen mid-air like elegant crystals.

Most importantly, I felt my sense of urgency, of rushed panic, dissipate from within me, spread out to the tips of my being and vanish. In some moments, but of course in none whatsoever, I left my front door and enjoyed the silent tranquillity of the street. Silent figures paused mid-rush, a mannequin like beauty in their stillness. Without realising, I had returned the watch to my pocket. I wondered if any had truly observed, and fought against the passage of time like I had. There was someone else to meet out there. Something, somewhere, told me that I was not alone in this second.

Reviews

[Maya]

I'd love to read the continuation of this story. It reminds me of Italo Calvino's If on a Winter's Night a Traveller...