This Appointment Occurs in the Past

11:50AM

He woke up too late. You would think, with the incessant alarm and the meticulous planning, that this result would have been impossible, and yet there he is. Struggling to see how much has been lost by the mere passage of unoblivious inexorable time, he rises and finds the tap and drinks from it. Water. A start.

It was a meeting - one that meant his employment. How could I possibly... his mind begins its permutations and ambivilations and excuses. Where can I say I was, what took importance, what legitimately trumps. His head pounds and provides no answers. So what next. Climb back into bed, under the covers, and forget it all. Take this as the opportunity to buy that flight to Moscow. To Xi'an. To Pyonyang. Anywhere else, start fresh and live the life of dreams in actuality, those parts dreamed of and those annoying and damning parts that are figure not within those illusions. An opportunity, then. Why did you miss this meeting, young man? Because I choose to. And I will begin flouting all conventions associated with my life that have constrained me up until now. I will begin. Oranges in Greece I will pick. Sidewalks in Malta I will sweep. Flyers I will hand out on the streets of Beijing. Anything but this monotony.

And then he wakes. False alarm. This appointment occurs in the past. But it was a fictitious appointment. The crucial moment is deferred.

And he is (just a little, but still significantly) sad.

11:57AM