I made the 4:08 to Washington.
I will arrive on time.
I sat in eyes-closed silence.
My nostrils were my sole thought.
Two tori, adjacent.
Cilia bending one way then the other.
Ten minutes of silence.
Following the breath.
In. Out. In. Out.
At least that was the plan.
A dog swimming deep underwater.
Around the Circle of Willis.
Sharks lurking in the shadows.
The jostling of the train unsteadies me. Train noises, phone noises, conversations of other people.
It is pouring down. I make a run for my car.
What is the color inside my closed eyelids? Will I hear the timer go off?
The drive is difficult. Visibility is very low.
Where should I take them for dinner? How will the evening go?
The water begins to get higher. Currents form from side street flows.
The past due bills. The imploded meeting I just left. This week’s deadline. Next week’s deadline.
Manholes are upended and become geysers. Roads are now rivers. The water engulfs my car. I am underwater.
And then I exit the station. Barricades everywhere, people everywhere, turmoil everywhere. Protesters protesting, people yelling, people watching, filming, commenting, and posting. The streets are blocked off to cars. Traffic jams, honking horns for blocks. Police on every corner.
How am I ever going to find a way out of this?
In. Out. In. Out.
