6:51pm

He looks over at his reflection for the thirteenth time and realizes nothing has changed. The hair on his face that he tried to shave has remade its way in the form of blotched out shades of black and red. As he contemplates removing it once more, he turns on a song that echoes heartbreak and whispers. He's had his heart broken once, but as it currently raced while his palms sweated between the grip of his cellphone, he wanted to have it broken again.

Song after song of heavy emotion and pondering, glances from dazed eyes at mirrors with faded reflections, and heavy breathing throughout minutes, hours, and days made the idea of change seem distant. His legs crossed as he rolled to turn and face away from the views of own self. He sits up and graciously carves out the hollow areas between his nails and skin; something that was once so removed from his body by teeth slamming together and depleting its existent.

His head forces its way into white lines of intersecting nature that form pathways to something someone once proclaimed a finger. He presses the lines back and forth across the dotted planes along his cheeks, resembling something of a tectonic shift in his life.

He looks up through washed out eyes passed down by generations of genes he didn't feel like wearing; the mirror farther and more revealing than ever before. His breath becomes stronger in tandem with his heart that seemed to play out the chorus of the songs that echoed in his ears.

His thoughts would cause his body to move in repertory patterns throughout the night, finally ending when the beating in his chest exhausted his mind and forced a complete shutdown of his concentration.

When his eyes finally opened to light dancing across his face, he turned and pressed four numbers into cracked glass. The first thing he saw was sent at 5:47 pm the night before - the last thing he wanted to see was "read at 6:51 pm."

He looked over at his reflection for the fourteenth time and realized nothing had changed.