Ivan Musoke

Note A Minute Too Soon

Time check: 5pm
I’ve been staring at my watch like I expect it to entice me with a strip tease of sorts. The seconds barely moving, outpaced only by my anxiety. I need to leave the office. I glance outside, squinting at the clouds as though to say, “don’t you dare!”. It’s been rainy these past couple of days and today is not the day I will accept Cumulo Nimbus’ ice bucket challenge.
I’m just not in the mood.

Shit. There’s no way anyone would miss me if I snuck out right now, is there? What purpose lays befor…
“Hey, lend me your charger”
Fuck! So close. What am I going to say? “No, I was on my way home….eventually”?
The battery in my workmate’s phone is not easily aroused and I can already see that my phone charger’s valiant attempts will go unrewarded for the time being. It might as well be a paper clip trying to get intimate with the pages of a dictionary.
What the hell? Is this the day that time forgot? I’ve looked over some work and proofread an ad. 6 times. Perhaps my watch is faulty…. maybe the hands on the clock go to the same book club my friend’s battery goes to. My gaze strays, landing at the clock trying to hide from me at the corner of the screen. The traitor! It’s minutes behind.
We’re making progress. We have moved forward with the resilience of a tiny third world country. The sense of urgency is lost on the reluctant battery which seems to be operating under the impression that if it showed any sign of excitement, its master might think it wanton.
Sod this. Maybe if I engaged someone in some small talk…
“hey, what do you think of our chances in today’s game?”
– “Man, I hope it doesn’t rain…”
Crap! The anxiety returns from it’s trip.
The clouds seem to be in a foul mood, but I really can’t tell whether their darkening has been brought on by the passage of time or the retention of something they would rather release. I know I’d be equally pissed if I was pressed and I was forced to just sit around doing nothing. Where is that blasted crossword puzzle.
I seem to have resigned myself to the role of BINGO announcer instead of puzzle filler, what with the way I’m just chanting the numbers besides the clues.  This sort of thing would come in handy if I were to play Battleship.
Let’s see… I think I know this one. 8 Down, 4 letters, “moisture condensed from the atmosphere that falls visibly in separate drops…”
Damn it!
Screw it. I’m sure my workmate has just enough juice to see him crossbreed pieces of Candy in that infernal game.
All my bags are packed, I’m ready to go….
This has got to be the slowest descent these stairs have hosted.
It’s like walking through the pearly gates. Except that this particular structure is in fact black and has nothing pearly about it. It’s not even sitting atop fluffy clouds. There’s puddles next to it. Why on earth would I make that reference to the pearly gates?
After flagging him down in a motion that will render my wrist useless for a some time whilst also ensuring a higher life expectancy for that bottle of special oils, we commence negotiations….
I’m ready to go.
Then a rain drop escapes from the heavens.

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