A Day Off

The only sound I hear is the faint ticking of the clock, telling me that this moment is still bound to time, but I don’t believe it. I must have been asleep, but everything is still the same: My glasses are still beside me, somewhere (I hope). My head is on my wife’s leg, and the room is perfectly still, as if nothing had ever moved here, ever. The sun is still throwing shapes on the wall, lines and angles and what’s that called—maybe a trapezoid?

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