Embracing Repitition.

Undetermined, I reach my gloved hand into my Timbuk2 messenger bag and passively rattle my custodial-sized key chain to check that they are secured to the attached clip and in my possession. I firmly grab and tug the door handle; flip the lock on the back of the door, and twist, awaiting the abrupt halt in motion to indicate its locked position. The first of four doors click as the second is opened, marking the first succession in a waterfall of security denoting my departure from my fifth-level apartment in the granola neighborhood en route to the plastic, material nine-to-five life. I put on a smile, think about the free daily awaiting me at the end of my seventeen-minute gait to the metro station and slide the cover of my travel mug counter-clockwise so as to open a slot of space to power back the desired first sip of my delay-brewed morning coffee. The walk down the steep hill from the complex and up the rounded knoll out of the valley beholding the community center is tranquil, revealing a setting of comfort. Violet crocus force their leading green stems through the loosening soil, lazily manicured lawns create a sense of untamed wilderness in an unarguably residential area, and an inescapable scent of freshly laid manure dominates a three-house stretch near the zenith of the ascent. My pulse begins to settle once the sidewalk plateaus, as I am included amongst an emergence of the neighborhood’s white-collared labor force who are converging at the trunk of the numerous trestles of pathway leading to the transit hub. The next block or so is a profiled view of partially forested yards while the spectators jockey for their walking positions. After a few aggressive approaches and surpasses, I discover myself near the front of the procession and follow the concrete trail through the green lawn dotted with oaks and maples, and converge upon the entryway of the red line with the cheerful, yet mentally absent, male who hands me a newspaper with a trite, but kind, salutation to which I return with like sentiments.

According to the digital display, the wait for the next train will be two minutes today, which is a typically average period, allowing me adequate time to cross the platform and position myself in front of an rail car with fewer occupants. I obtain my idled place and check the day’s headline as the train arrives and slows to a stop. I lightly tread towards the opening door and enter, immediately glancing for a place to sit over the next forty minutes and successfully discover an empty window seat next to a slender, business man conscious of personal space. I interrupt the suspecting passenger and sink into my seat; shaking open the newspaper and folding it over, so as to reciprocate our shared idea of comfort in not breaching the invisible border dividing our paired seat.

The seat is covered in a rich, mocha brown leather hide, which displays a light scratching and wear associated to furniture that is a consistent second option to rest within. The enormous coffee he was at first hesitant to purchase feels idyllic and the sausage muffin tastes more filling than the considered healthier option, as he vigorously pages through continuous articles pertaining to a recently deceased favorite writer. The café is familiar, although the precise time is a meal earlier. Every couple of weeks, he accompanies his partner to the Virginia vicinity of a scheduled, social engagement, but usually deviates a block away before the meeting, to attain a more comforting locale to distract his anxious thoughts. The separation is brief, and rarely accomplishes the initial productive aspirations, but he usually achieves a sense of clarification through his forced procrastination. Emotions are lightened as he rewardingly rationalizes his distraction, and convinces himself that self-imposed deadlines are only such, and that it’s these interruptions that award those who partake in the mundane. He believes the tedious nature of the common day is a dirt , which covers the simple distraction that is anything but. As he ponders the warming thought, from his peripheral vision, he spots a familiar silhouette striding towards him, effortlessly wearing an optimistic and refreshing smile.