Nothing to sneeze at (pt. 1)
The rumbling of the train, rolling along the tracks, lulls the passengers to sleep, while the humming fans from overhead keeps them unconscious. What a nice way to spend an hour traveling to and from work.
Being fortunate to sit next to the window in a crowded train, I look out and watch the vistas zoom by in a cosmic blur. The lush trees, the crystal-clear water, the industrial buildings; appearing progressively closer to the city.
The sun pours through the pane of glass and little flecks of dust are captured in the light. The particles appear to be snowflakes in the middle of summer.
My left hand reaches up to the window and my index finger traces little circles and random patterns. My right hand is holding onto a newspaper.
With every flick of my finger, more and more flecks of dust fly into the air. The breeze from the fans above, blow them around.
My nose starts to twitch as I inhale. Every exhale doesn’t help the situation. It’s like a prickling feeling in your nose; a feather with pointy tips.
Allergies are starting up again. Same time, every year. When the flowers are in bloom, my allergies become my doom. Why do I have to be allergic to something so prevalent in the environment? Why can’t I be allergic to things I can’t stand, like family?
Knowing that I am about to sneeze any second, I place my left hand in front of my mouth and make a semi-fist.
It’s coming. Oh Lord, it’s coming.
Aah, aah, AAH… CHOO!!
Finally. Relief.
My left hand releases its semi-fist and I look at it to see if there is any residue. Nope. None. Good. That means I don’t have to (discreetly) wipe it on my shirt or pants.
As I glance over to the window, I see something that wasn’t there before. What exactly is that pattern on the glass? A smattering of little dots. A miniature de Kooning abstract.
Oh, bloody hell, nooo...!
Being fortunate to sit next to the window in a crowded train, I look out and watch the vistas zoom by in a cosmic blur. The lush trees, the crystal-clear water, the industrial buildings; appearing progressively closer to the city.
The sun pours through the pane of glass and little flecks of dust are captured in the light. The particles appear to be snowflakes in the middle of summer.
My left hand reaches up to the window and my index finger traces little circles and random patterns. My right hand is holding onto a newspaper.
With every flick of my finger, more and more flecks of dust fly into the air. The breeze from the fans above, blow them around.
My nose starts to twitch as I inhale. Every exhale doesn’t help the situation. It’s like a prickling feeling in your nose; a feather with pointy tips.
Allergies are starting up again. Same time, every year. When the flowers are in bloom, my allergies become my doom. Why do I have to be allergic to something so prevalent in the environment? Why can’t I be allergic to things I can’t stand, like family?
Knowing that I am about to sneeze any second, I place my left hand in front of my mouth and make a semi-fist.
It’s coming. Oh Lord, it’s coming.
Aah, aah, AAH… CHOO!!
Finally. Relief.
My left hand releases its semi-fist and I look at it to see if there is any residue. Nope. None. Good. That means I don’t have to (discreetly) wipe it on my shirt or pants.
As I glance over to the window, I see something that wasn’t there before. What exactly is that pattern on the glass? A smattering of little dots. A miniature de Kooning abstract.
Oh, bloody hell, nooo...!
Authored by S at 12:00 am
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