Exposed I-beams painted lime green. Buttressed by black clamps with cylindrical pillars. Brown floor laid with cement. Fans turn at different speeds. Oven doors open and close, bringing freshly baked goods.
Vintage mirror behind baristas. Round and rectangular tables. Emerald green sofa lines one side.
Post Hyrox event, one limps out. Murmur of conversations. Different rhythms and decibels and accents. A baby that cried out is gone? Replaced by the sound of cutlery being cleared, workers talking to one another.
Approaching closing time, crowd thins. I sit back as I write. Wondering what song is playing in the background. Instrumental cover of well known songs, inviting us to sing along silently.
Oven stops firing. She is not bending up and down. She wipes the outsidr with her right, as her left pushes the handle to keep oven closed.
Water runs as he rinses dishes before slotting them onto drying rack.
We are slowing down. This melody that I wanted to run away from. The quietude of silence. Away from socializing. Looking for property to buy. Personal bests to beat. Mountains to climb. Life to create and offers to sign.
Now that the achieving has been achieved. The lull of this vastness of space filled with energy that used to collide… I am learning how to still them. To let them…myself settle into a collection of heaped piles of electrons. Letting the valence collide, into one another. Creating new shapes of me. Unfamiliar but better. A shape of me that burns brighter. Less effort and less pretense.
Start writing.