Three to Christmas, 18 A.C.
-
[email protected]
At this hour, here underground, the passage
parting the malls is empty. And there's that
christmas music floating loudly through unseen
speakers, floating and finally falling on no one
but me. Maybe it's always been playing? I'll never
be sure, as there has almost always been a din
through here. Now, on a night as late and unlikely
as this, the music fills the way, like water pours
into an empty cup. And the emptiness is so
present. I'm soaking in it.
I've passed through here many times before. But
after what happened today, maybe this will be the
last time. Glittery christmas decorations on the
arch-ways and over-walks, and tiny little
lights. Footfalls far too loud for landing. I had
been happy here once, and while I would be happy
again, this drawn down walk is a strange scene to
sink into. Coming past the donut store, I think a
coffee will taste good. There will be no sleep
tonight, anyways.
"Thank you." A smile, and that tiny tick of time
to take it in, that was all it took. And here,
underground, after everything that had gone down
today as it had, here was that spark of comfort in
strangers, stranger still than me to myself. So
sweet and fleeting.
The weight of this day and the consequences, not
yet three hours burned out by now, will be brought
to bear in the hazy days and reeling weeks to
come. But for right now, still there is this.
Merry christmas... to all of you who want that,
and to those with the spoons to spread it where
needed.
