Could we, perhaps, do battle with a pack of pretty flowers or soft bunnies next time?

Time came and went again. It was so much slower these days than Jack remembered it ever being, and yet so much faster. Music gigs, and work gigs, and just gigs, they passed on by at a rapid pace, slowing down towards the evenings and the mornings when he and Dane settled into a slow and comfortable routine.

Sitting here, it felt as if someone had hit the fast-forward button and life had rushed on past until it had suddenly stopped, jarring, in this tiny cramped burrito place buried in someone’s basement somewhere in Manhattan, blinking against the too-bright lights while Jill talked and the night slowed to a crawl outside. Like he was some kind of time traveler, lost out of time, staring at his–

Hand?

He really needed to stop philosophizing.

“Jack?” Jill said, doing her wise drummer-squint at him over the remains of her veggie burrito. “You doing okay there?”

“Yeah,” he said, and dropped his barbacoa-soaked mess into the sad little puddle of hot sauce at the bottom of his plate. “Sorry. I haven’t been sleeping enough lately, my head’s doing that thing where I lose track of the fabric of space-time completely. It’ll come back to me, I’m sure.”

( Anyway, I think I want to see how the summer works out... )

[[ can be open for phone calls et al ]]