Just Watching the Light Move
I didn’t plan to sit there that long. I was just on the floor, kind of half-looking at my phone, not really scrolling. I don’t even remember what I was checking. I noticed the light on the floor—it had shifted since earlier. It moved from the edge of the bookshelf to part of the rug. I kept looking at it for a while, I guess.
I hadn’t done the laundry. There was still a cup on the windowsill. The room wasn’t clean, but I wasn’t bothered. It was warm inside, and outside looked like late afternoon. You know that kind of light that doesn’t really shine—it just lands? That.
At one point I thought about folding clothes. Or maybe washing a few dishes. But I didn’t. I kept thinking I should stand up but just didn’t. There wasn’t a reason, really. My brain was quiet. Not empty, just… not full either.
Somewhere in the back of my head, I remembered writing something kind of similar last week. About a day when nothing happened, but it still stuck around. I didn’t re-read it, but it was this one—I think.
I don’t know if that’s why I noticed the light this time, or if I would’ve noticed it anyway. It moved again a few minutes later. I didn’t get up. I just sat and looked at it.
Everything else stayed the same. The mess, the sound of a car outside, something ticking.
I didn’t do anything with the moment. But I still remember it. Which is strange. Or not. I don’t know.