The Interruptions

Leap Day.   I wanted to mark it somehow.  This time, given to us, because there is an excess of hours.  And so, moments before it fades, I come here with good intentions.  I stand at the door, breathless, ready, and yet…

There is nothing to tell, I think.  How unremarkable. The monotony of these days.  Walking through rain, clutching the subway pole, sitting where I always sit.

There were cupcakes today, for a coworker I knew only briefly, in passing, who will leave us.  Who will fly across the country to a new life.  Fifteen minutes away from meetings and emails and phonecalls to say goodbye to someone who peeked in. Who turned around.

I spoke to a friend, in the morning, first thing.  I sat at my desk with brown sugar and oatmeal. She smiled, spoke quickly, tripped over words, laughed.  Stopped.  Wondered.  I like him, she said.

And, I remember, that is everything.  There are hours.  And there are interruptions. The interruptions are so full of possibility.

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