Time’s Reluctant March

It was a grey and cold day — the type of day in which Charlie preferred to have the shutters hide them from the world. Charlie was a novelist who had self-published a few books over the years, gaining enough notoriety to fill the small cafe 15 minutes away to half capacity. They were meant to do a book-reading of their latest novel “Musical Chairs” this afternoon, a science-fiction thriller about an elementary school boy who tries to make sense of his life after encountering it at multiple discrete points in time simultaneously.

It was 12:15pm, 15 minutes after Charlie usually began eating lunch. They prepared a grilled cheese sandwich with string cheese meant for the occasional snack, with a side of frozen grapes that had been stored 2 seasons ago. They read the LA times on their phone as they ate, briefly skimming opinion articles on wars abroad or the Top 5 portable batteries under $50. After the meal, they looked outside, yawned, and wondered if they would have the energy to read to a room of 30 with any amount of enthusiasm, forced or otherwise.

This is a story I drafted in 30 minutes for fun. Thank you for reading!