The elusiveness of time. |
“How can it be lunchtime already?” Susan exclaimed in shock. “I just began the Simms report, and it was nine o’clock.” “I know because I checked the time on my clock radio; that could not have been much more than fifteen minutes ago!” High up on the twenty-third floor of Corporate Acme, shafts of sunlight pierced the skylights for everyone to see. So Susan’s incredulity took Betty by surprise; she thinned her lips and cocked her head, puzzlement in her eyes. “It really is twelve o’clock,” Betty said, with a hint of bite; she even checked her wristwatch to make sure that she was right. She formed a toothless smile but it wasn’t quite a smirk, and urged, “C’mon, old girl, it’s time to take a break from work.” Susan got up but she retained a stiffness in her pose; she eyed the papers on her desk and grabbed a vase-held rose. She stared intently at the rose like she was hypnotized, then Betty’s blatant flippancy was suddenly downsized . “What is it Susan?” Betty asked, her hand upon her arm; the look upon her face was such to trigger some alarm. “Something occurred, this is not right,” her voice was very low; “I have no sense of nine to noon--where did those hours go?” When Betty looked at Susan’s face she saw that it was pale; she wondered if there was a chance delusion would prevail. But holding to compassion’s rein, she lent Susan an ear; and all through lunch, at Our Place, she took the time to hear. It was compelling, to a point, the time that Susan lost; yet Betty thought, “Although I’m nice, sometimes there is a cost.” The look that Betty saw in Susan‘s eyes was most sincere, so Betty did her best to placate Susan‘s growing fear. They finished their shrimp cocktail and they drank a glass of wine, and Betty was convinced she had assured her things were fine. They even joked of UFO’s that slip the crack of sky; then as they both returned to work, the pace of life went by. The incidence of sunlight beams was now much more extreme; Betty pondered perhaps Susan had some sort of dream. But then she thought, at quitting time, with much amazement spent, “It‘s five o‘clock and I don‘t know where those four hours went!” 36 Lines Writer’s Cramp 3-6-13 |