9:00 A.M. The alarm clock on his nearby dresser began the familiar drone of the news on National Public Radio. Yellow sunbeams leaked through the slits in his blinds, casting his small bedroom in stripes of golden light and shadow. Slam! A weary hand fell down on the snooze button. He rolled over in his bed, covered his face with an arm, and groaned. Too early, he thought, six hours of sleep is not enough. He hated his new schedule – but it will all be over in just a couple more weeks, he told himself. Ten more minutes of respite.
9:10 A.M. The radio sounded again. He raised his hand again, ready to let gravity do its thing. Instead of the droning news, it was now replaced by the melody of a single deep-sounding instrument. He retracted his arm back into the warmth of his blanket. He felt the familiar resonance of the instrument’s strings in his ears, in his bones. I know this piece, I’ve played it before. It had to be one of Bach’s Unaccompanied Cello Suites, which one he couldn’t remember. He even knew the cellist playing the piece, the controlled arpeggios and the clarity of each note: unmistakably Yo-Yo Ma, the greatest cellist of his time (that was his opinion anyway). “And that was Bach’s Unaccompanied Cello played by the world-renown cellist Yo-Yo Ma,” said his alarm clock as the clip of the piece faded away. He hated how they always cut the music clips short, but at least he was correct.
He promptly sat up straight, turned off the alarm clock, and put on his glasses. It was time to start the day. With a yawn and a stretch, he groggily shuffled out of bed. He pulled open one of his dresser drawers and pulled out a shirt, changing into it and out of the T-shirt he wore to bed. He then took his jeans off the back of the chair at his desk and changed into that as well. As he opened his door and went to the bathroom down the hall, he could see his roommate’s door opened just a crack. Glancing in, he saw his roommate still fast asleep, snoring even, and quickly fought back a small pang of envy.
He completed his morning ritual of emptying his bladder, brushing his teeth, and making sure sleep hadn’t gifted him with horrible bed hair. Walking into the living room, he instinctively turned his head towards the clock on the wall. 9:32 A.M. He still had about an hour to meet up with the others for brunch. He took his time and stood at the large windows, looking out at the city before him as the morning light flooded the low rooftops of nearby buildings. The birds were singing, a few clouds lingered at the edges of sight from the window. It would be a good day he told himself.
He walked to the kitchen and got himself a glass of water. When he finished drinking his gaze fell on an odd-shaped object next to an end table by the couch. Strangely gourd-shaped, it came up to his chest and was black in color. Sometimes it looked like a mini-sarcophagus capable of fitting a small child inside. I know you feel trapped inside, he said aloud in his head to the object. Setting the empty glass down, he walked over to the object. On either side were long straps. Crouching down, he slid one arm through each of the straps and stood up, lifting the surprisingly light sarcophagus thing onto his back like an over-sized backpack. And now I feel like a turtle, he thought, chuckling to himself.
He made sure his wallet, keys, and cell phone were all in his pocket. Then he headed out the door, locking it behind him. Though he lived on the fifth floor of his apartment complex, he was feeling lazy today. So he took the elevator that was usually too slow for his liking. It was early enough that few others were awake and the elevator responded promptly and didn’t stop at any other floor.
Exiting the elevator, he walked briskly across the lobby and out the front door. He turned to his right into the parking lot and slung the black object off his back, putting it into the trunk of his car. He stood there for a minute debating whether or not to walk to his designation or to drive instead. It was about a forty-five minutes’ walk away whereas it would be about fifteen minutes by car. He extracted his cell phone from his right pocket to look at the time, as he didn’t like to wear watches. 10:03 A.M. Well, driving it was then.
About fifteen minutes later he was nearing his destination, a local café situated in the busy downtown area. Already much of the parking was taken. He looked at the clock in his car – 10:20 A.M. He had ten minutes to find a parking spot as he circled around the block. He drove slowly as there were people filling up the sidewalks and walking without warning into the streets. About a block away he found a space for him to parallel park. Making sure his doors and trunk were locked, he walked leisurely to the front of the café.
He stopped just in front and again took out his cell phone to look at the time. 10:29 A.M. He suppressed a small smile. Lame as it was, he prided himself on his punctuality, a very difficult thing to do in his field of work. He glanced down either side of the sidewalk to see if anyone had already arrived yet or not. He saw someone he knew turn the corner to his right. She looked a little tired but in good spirits. Upon noticing him, she broke into a light run and smiled while waving hello. He returned the smile and the hello wave. A minute or so later, she was standing before him, the sun giving her tanned skin a light glow.
“Hola Jason!” she said in a slightly Spanish-accented voice. “How are you? On time as always. You’re so dependable.” She smiled widely and gave a little laugh.
Jason exhaled a playful sigh. “Hey, that’s who I am. Dependable, like a rock.” He looked back down at his cell phone. 10:32 A.M.
