What was the date?

Lara paused her typing for a moment. She looked at her calendar, it was the fifth. In June.

When did it become June?

She stopped her work, stretching out her back hearing several pops caused after sitting in the same position for so long. Lara stood and went out of her room taking large steps to avoid piles of dirty clothes in the hallway. 

She made her way to the living room and sat on her couch with her legs folded in an attempt to try meditation. It was supposed to help your mind relax or something. Plus she had been doing online work for so long that she wanted, no, needed to take a break.

What was the date?

The thought echoed in her brain. How could she forget the date? She didn't even just forget the date she forgot what day it was.

She tried deep breathing, but was interrupted by a tick tick tick.

The old grandfather clock, tick tick tick, that stood hauntingly in the living room almost seemed to be glaring at her. 

What was the date? It seemed to say haughtily. Have you already stopped counting?

She found herself  staring at the old clock, tick tick tick, in her cat pajamas. The old machine was one of the few things that made any noise in her house and it drew her attention. Before quarantine, her old washing machine would rattle and crank sometimes occasionally getting on her nerves. She used it sparinglyNow that she was in quarantine she wished her new one would make some noise to give life.

She chewed on her lip staring at the old clock (tick tick tick) as another minute passed. 

She could have figured it out if she wanted. It was Thursday, wasn’t it?

She shook her head muttering to herself. Couldn’t be, her business meeting was on Wednesday and that wasn’t yesterday.

Or maybe it was.

What was the date?

She sighed deeply, sinking into her couch. Lara had stopped counting when it started and all the days seemed to blur together now.

She stood slowly going to the kitchen to get lunch. 

Her feet made a sound accompanying that tick tick tick.

She grabbed some leftovers that were in a container along with a fork. Some rice and sausage from last week, ...maybe. She brought the container up closer removing the lid and sniffed the container just to be safe. Eh, they were still good.

She went over to the sink where she had a silver kettle sitting close, she filled it and placed it on the stove. The stove made a tick(tick tick) as she turned on the heat

What was the date?

She was annoyed with herself and angrily took a bite of the spicy sausage. She hated how the dates seemed to slip away from her. She hated how the clock managed to get underneath her skin. 

At the beginning of all this she had a firm schedule, but that sort of disappeared in a mess of all day pjs and brunches. P.M’s and A.M’s held no meaning. Netflix had become her signal to go to bed alerting her with the sign of “Are you still watching?”.

What did the date matter? Who cared. Someone important said that time was irrelevant. Probably Einstein or Edison. No matter the amount she disregarded it, the question always floated up to the front of her mind, It felt like an itch she had to scratch; it was like an annoying tick (tick tick).

Outside looked pleasant, she decided, with sunshine streaming through the windows. Green leaves were moving back and forth in the wind decorating her old tree. 

Lara decided to eat outside on her patio away from that gloomy tick tick tick

She took in a deep breath of the air when she sat in her patio chair. 

She needed this after being cooped inside. 

Screw meditation, sitting outside gave her peace.

She enjoyed having friends over on the patio since her house could be such a mess. She felt little attachment to her house, but all the attachment she needed was on the patio.

The floor was made of white stone with red making small patterns. Beams of wood with light blue paint that had begun to flake held up creeping vines that bloomed with large white flowers. Four gray chairs with small cushions were placed around the fireplace that was now full of ash during the day. Her garden had bright pink azaleas that sprouted blooms. All her friends would spend time there most of the time not having conversations, but just… talking.

There was a difference between those two wasn’t there?

There were points to conversations, talks were just there. Pieces out of time to just be.

That’s what she needed.

There would be fires when it got dark and she could make a mean hot chocolate. She smiled feeling warm when she heard the high shriek of her kettle.

Once she took the kettle off the tick tick tick returned.

All of the visits stopped since she was susceptible to the disease going around. 

“Try to stay away from people.” Her Doctor said. “Try to be cautious.” He said.

She scowled taking the kettle off searching for a mug and chamomile.


She hated that word. Cautious meant she couldn’t see people. Cautious meant that her days were numbered and she had to be reminded of that fact.

She always knew her days were numbered, but it got worse when she was alone.

Here she was, being cautious. 


Lara walked back out with her tea. She took a sip of the hot liquid, it burned her throat as it went down. She grimaced and set it down on the ground. 

She continued eating her lunch waiting for her tea to cool down.

This was a nice spring summer afternoon.

            (tick tick tick)

She leaned back into the chair feeling the sun, the heat of the mug in her hand, the wind on her face.

She was going to just be.

March 12, 2021 17:38

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