The Lunch Special

As detached as I am from the fresh onslaught of unhappy students and incompetent administrators, I felt my body brace itself for the impact of a 60 minute release from the confines of a world I cared nothing about.

The day could be no more perfect; the wind no more sweeter. I broke through the doors like a train hunting the light at a tunnels end, atop my two wheels and aluminum frame. Co-workers frightened by my sudden appearance and departure, struggled with dramatic urgency to part a path through their core, like Moses and the red sea. My silent yells, unleashed from me to my bike, were definitely heralded as I split the group and rode the wind as it both pushed and pulled me away from the mouth of the beast.

Was work really, truly, as bad as I made it out to be? Definitely not. I’m sure occupations existed that were much less tolerable; however, my job had transcended recently. As I discovered myself and decided on an early retirement, my work had become a symbol of tyranny and unrequited effort; a figure of lost hope; emptiness.

The cool air, and it’s translucence, shed the thoughts of an already distant past. The cars flowed above in silence, like flowers waving in the breeze. However constant, each moved within their inherent directions, a gravitational pull possessed by their personal, exotic and obscure dream hidden from their own eyes.

A few seconds passed and my once lifeless body, robotic and droned, was part of something greater. Like the fast acting effects of your own perfect drug, I was high on the life that surrounded me; consumed by it. I drifted, apart from my own person; a feather in the wind.

The universe, which at first captured my every thought, had now taken a different role. It served me, like a great impervious sail cast upon the air I breathed; the air I dreamed.  I realized that I was not alone. Together, my heart, soul, and mind wandered the open seas protected by the universe as it conspired to set me free.

I enjoyed it for every 1,200 seconds, but as with all things dear and beautiful, a danger of loss always lurks near. I returned to work still detached, but floating beside myself.

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