It Was Tuesday
I got off at platform 6. Always platform 6. I put my headphones in, began my paced walk home. As my favourite album was playing, I missed the screams and panic behind me. It was Tuesday. I checked my feeds. Always the feeds. I could walk the route home blind, so I let the bass set the pace for my feet. As I dutifully avoided stepping on the cracks, I missed the ashes and debris behind me. It was Tuesday. I took the shortcut. Always the shortcut. There were fewer people to bump into there, and now it was completely empty. As I hummed to the beat of the music, I missed the fire and explosions behind me. It was Tuesday. I secured the door chains in my apartment. Always the door chains. I took a couple of dance steps in the hallway, the tune gave my feet no choice but to hop. As the melody ushered me to the fridge door, the world wailed and burned around me. It was Tuesday. And then the music stopped. I ripped the headphones off. Blooms of inferno etched into my retina, and there was never going to be another Tuesday ever again.
