Momentary Blindness (Lucy Scribner Library, 1st Floor)

2.1.19

I hear the clicking and clacking of the many keyboards in my vicinity. I also click and clack as I write this, but my rhythm is off from the others. I assume it is because the procrastinators have an impending deadline, so time is of the essence for them. The flu season is definitely upon us as I hear sniffling on repeat as if it is being played off a record. The air quality is average; I do not have much to say about it besides the fact that it fills my lungs and keeps my blood oxygenated. The conversation that surrounds me is ripe with gossip. They begin with the "hey, how are yous?" which goes two ways: they continue to get into a long conversation about how their week has went and plans for the weekend or the conversation simply ends right there...



In one conversation, they plan to go to Sinclair's after "pre-gaming" at someone's house (I missed who's house it was). In another conversation, they plan to go to Chowderfest tomorrow and to Matt's apartment after. I take a sip of my water to wash down the sweetness from the rice crispy treat that I ate about 15 minutes ago; somehow though the taste still lingers in my mouth despite my attempt to wash it down. The printers now begin to go off in sync; the procrastinators must have completed their "masterpieces". When the printer error beep goes off, I am taken out of my "flow". I step away from my post to refill tray number 5. Why is it always number 5?

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