Time sleeps while the heart slips and surrenders its beats.
--------The day was stuck, he was convinced. His mind was stuck, the weather was heated and still, the clouds were stuck. Even the hands on his watch did not move, so the day was stuck too. That’s what his logic told him, what his sweaty back and languid stretch spoke. The creaks of the house echoed the sentiment as well, and the cool liquid rushing down his throat only made him want more. No satisfaction, no change of state, mental or physical. It was all the same. Everything he knew droned on and on in endless familiarity.
--------The wrinkles of his skin had deepened over the years, pores more visible, skin almost harsh. A crooked smile would lift his face ever so often, yet it was so ordinary that it blended in with the rest of his visage. Fine threads of silver were working their way in and adorning his head, and his eyes had a twinkle although they never shone. He had lived, was living, and was getting older, but this ‘now’ never did seem to change. The time of the world, of buses and cars, of appointments, meetings and rude alarms, seemed like a stolen illusion. For nothing could ever keep pace like the duration of his heartbeats, from the first to the last, each one a complete pulsation of the heart.
--------There was a pause here and as he stared mindlessly at his world, he just waited, waited for someone to turn him on.