Time

Three days ago. 43 minutes began. To count down. I hear it. Time continues. And holds on. 43 minutes ago. Was when I started my day. Days, and days, and days. Eyes endlessly blinking. Then the prodding continues. 46 minutes ago. I remember things. Like hanging up my coat. Again, and again. My coat is probably disintegrated by now. I hate how minutes. Are trying to deceive me. Five days ago. I ate breakfast. So clearly, I had pancakes. I ate a hundred pancakes. I’m convinced that a pancake is following me. Five days and four hours ago. I was driving in my car. I didn’t die or something. But something happened. The eclipse or something. It followed me home. 43 minutes. I stood a few feet from here. Looking at myself hanging my coat, I am glaring at my future self. Getting nothing done. My feet are holding me up uncomfortably. Feet going numb. She gave me a call. Two minutes ago. When the 43 minutes started. I let it go to voicemail. I think they are evil and about to come through the portal. 43, 46 minutes, 4 hours, and five, three days. And I still haven’t hung up my coat.