End of Day

It’s the end of the day. You’re done with work, studies, dinner, dishes, laundry. Your dog, kids, and partner are asleep, no emails need to be answered, the house is silent. It’s only you, your mind, and time.

Time clocks in at 10:58pm and tells you you’re wide awake. The only thing standing between you and tomorrow is your existential loneliness, that ominous, expansive companion who consistently makes his presence felt when the day no longer has any hold over you.

You stare through your bedroom window and listen to your partner’s breath, your grounding force. Thoughts of the future dot your mind like stars in the sky, stories on candlelit nights, some fizzling out sooner than others, though one pulls you away from this earthbound reality.

Your hair is loose & scraggly, your face a reminder of physical determinism, your body a remnant of what was. Everything you’ve done will soon be forgotten. Everyone you love will soon be without you. Every part of your life will soon become no more than a trail of memories.

A heaviness in your chest pulls you back to the bedroom. Your eyes are closed, your heart rate is soaring, and your cheeks are wet. This is it, you think. This is all there ever will be. You, your mind, and time.

Your dog makes his way under the groove of your arm and stays there. He sighs, licks your cheeks clean, looks in the direction of the window, and waits. 11:25pm. It’s the end of the day.