Morning Rituals

The clouds hung, low and grey, not daring to disturb the concrete landscape.  The floor vibrated; the chair, the walls, the ceiling, the very earth vibrated.  The world was washed out, we rattled past.  She clung on to her phone, as did each other member of society under the age of thirty then excluding the small thing in the pram, she attempted conversation.

“You read it?”

“No.” I was affixed to the tiny four inch screen held a foot from my face.  “Should I have?”

“You didn’t miss much.”  Jess was typing at the same time, this was a practiced conversation, one of us will have done the required work for the day and is required to tell the other that they didn’t need to read it and in fact cliff notes will suffice.  The Lecturer clearly agreed, despite her protestations, but if the lecturer can use cliff notes in the lecture slides and we can reference lecture slides, then we must be allowed to reference cliff notes.  The argument didn’t even hold up while it was running through my head.

Around the bus everybody was in the same situation.  All wishing for conversation and not knowing how to go about it.  There are no emoticons in reality, we have to attempt facial expressions.  That’s easier said than done at 7am on a Friday.

It was one of those irritating people that broke through the rumbling of the bus.  One of those morning people.

“My mum ate so many Pringles she had to go to hospital.”