Strangers

Intense buzzing of the alarm. Repetitive beeps permitted for far too long. Left hand slams the clock, thud as it gets bumped off the edge. The alarm continues to tease in its domain. A face that of comedic timing, “Really,” as he stares at the demon that lays. Body skoots over, he extends his arm to nudge the clock with his hand.

A new day, a new world to conquer. A decree to chase disorder. Truest he will ever be, in his room. Movement to the restroom, dragging his feet. Abrupt readiness, weary posture. But as soon as the preparations are complete, the television in front, the entertainment of sorts. At the slight tone of music, the mind numbs.

What is the need to add music?
“A close friend of mine died, sad music sir.”

The time flies, there is no moment to fine tune the jokes. He gathers and moves to the place he loves, so he says.

Photo by Scott Barnard on Unsplash

Early in the morning, the crowd waiting at the stops. It is hard to mind the bleed of the abruptness that has left a mark on them. Strolling through the streets, the mind shifts from one thing to another, a cover presented with a key to souls.

I stand here at the stop. Watching these strangers, I cannot know the weight of their lives. Sheath enclosed, each moving through the world. All I see are surfaces. Nothing more.

The businessman in a crisp suit, oblivious to the world, does he deserve it? Or is luck finally cracking the shell of his smugness?

That dude leaning over the wall, eyeing through the morning, I feel his gaze slicing the morning, though he may not even see me. Both Lock eyes.
A smirk from the stranger.

Daily Prompts for FreeWriters

Prompt: Strangers

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