Late Again

by nkwilczy

The phone rings, he reaches out from under the sheets.

“Dammit Gary, this is the third time you’ve been late this week, what the hell is going on?”

“I’ll be there in a second” and he hangs up, he knows that the lecture can wait until he gets down to the shop.

He looks over at the empty space in his bed, he frowns. He used to wake up on time every morning, like a machine.

What’s the point?

Gary slides into his jeans quickly, sprays the sort of body spray that all of the ads claim will provoke the adoration of swarms of women. Gary knows better than that, he pulls on his shirt.

Gary used to eat breakfast. Gary used to wake up early and make breakfast for two, all before he went to work, dutifully, on schedule.

What’s the point?

Gary pulls out of his driveway onto Coronation Street. He is not a highly educated man, but a stoner friend of his had once subjected him to a series of youtube videos about quantum mechanics. They had claimed that a stream of electrons behaved differently depending on whether it was being observed or not.

His stoner friend had asked him, “Isn’t that like… trippy man?”

Gary was completely sober; he had no thoughts on how “trippy” it was. But he could sympathize with the electrons.

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