It's Still Life

Perfect Timing

Time has a perfect view of my life. A clock in the kitchen, well, three actually, the microwave, the oven, and one on the wall that calibrates itself with some radio in Greenwich, a process worth marvelling over, if I cared to. And there’s a clock in the living room, two to be precise – one on the smart meter that reports electricity but is blind to gas usage, and another being the old grandfather clock that we inherited from a grandfather. Really, truly. We disassembled it, packed the clock mechanism in blankets, and brought it home to England from Denmark. The only place that doesn’t have a clock of one sort or another is in the loo, that being a place where one shouldn’t be rushed. Just yesterday, I rushed to catch the bus, needlessly, as I’d forgotten that both the train and bus drivers are on strike. Well, perfect, I snapped at another passenger waiting at the bus stop. So why, I asked her, are you standing here at the bus shelter if no buses are running today. She said she was just trying to get out of the rain. So I pulled the hood up on my jacket, and started walking back home, when a black cat the colour of the sky crept out from under a bush, and walked across my path. Perfect, I said to the cat, who probably thought I was mimicking its purr.

Word count: 236. A stream of consciousness write for Linda Hill’s SOCS, including the word perfection. I used perfect, as I’m perfectly fond of adjectives. AI Digital Art is mine and created using Midjourney’s bot (v4). Image and poem ©Misky 2023 Shared on Twitter #SOCS #amwriting @midjourney @LindaGHill