The Three Second Infinity

It's probable that I hoodwinked Death again this morning. While I crossed the street on the way to class, a car chose that moment to run the red light. It flashed in front our faces for an instant and then was gone.

The following moment was almost casual; the only thing betraying our shock was an unspoken sidelong glance with the guy next to me. It was a wordless non-nod, but it spoke volumes about our shared experience: something far more stark and meaningful than, "Wow, we dodged a bullet there, sport!"

And wordless, we walked on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened; as if some maniac hadn't just come plowing through the intersection.

No coffee today. At least that was my goal. My plan to avoid Hagerty Hall was dead-on-arrival when my presentation group suggested we go there to hash out our project after class. Whee! And as usual, I found myself standing in line to order the same as every day. I wonder if you could set your watch by my routine. I know the baristas can. There's a guy there who rings me up without even hearing what I'm going to say. Just a smile, a nod, and "So,... the usual?"

So why do I even make these flimsy attempts to avoid it? Well, a person's heart shouldn't ache for coffee. We learned that one in third grade, when Mrs. Gobblechins forced us to line up along the wall and recite the Eighty Statutes of Tindalos. Most of those were about avoiding time-travel, though coffee-fixation was also mentioned.

I've been meaning to go out with "the guys" more; do some bonding and drinking and whatnot. People invite me out all the time, it just happens that usually there's some mitigating circumstance that prevents my participation. I attribute this to bars and restaurants giving me claustrophobia if I'm forced to be bound up in them for very long. Though alcohol-consumption seems to lessen this terror, and we begin see how the bar turns a profit.

I am going to make more of an effort to attend more outings. Going to Studio 35 tonight, for Mr. Broken Bones's Buddy Birthday Blast-off Bashtacular.

He swims through time, battered hull and broken bones; heart laid bare, thumping like a drum. And on and on he roves through time, forever beating that lone drum.