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He took up a position by the window and rested his hands on the windowsill. He laid his head on his folded hands as a frown formed on his face. Through the window he watched the bees as they went about their business, seeming to float as they moved from one flower to another. 

One of the bees approached the window, he guessed it must have lost its way. Had it really lost its way? He wondered. Or was it staring at its reflection on glass plane.

He wondered if it had the ability to think, and if it did, he wondered what it could be thinking about. Did it have a family? Was that why it worked so hard, day-in, day-out, alongside the other bees that were floating around the garden? 

Did it work so much so it could provide enough honey for the young ones in the hive? He wondered what it must be like heading out each morning in search of flowers and returning home to produce honey. What did the bee feel about following the same routine each day? Did it feel happy and passionate whenever it left the hive with the other bees or did it daydream about its home and wish it could choose a much different lifestyle?

What was it like working with the hundreds or thousands of other bees in its hive? Did it ever feel lonely despite being surrounded by such a huge crowd? Were there windows in the hive and did it ever sit by the window, gazing out at the world as it imagined a different life for itself?

The questions continued to pour into his mind as the bee flew away to join the other bees.

He had pondered upon similar questions in the past and he was yet to find answers to them. He’d conducted multiple internet searches and watched many videos but he didn’t find answers his questions. The last time it was an ant, this time it was a bee, next time it would be something else. Would he ever find answers to his numerous questions? 

This determination to get answers was the reason why he decided he would be a scientist when he grew up. For some reason, the current crop of scientists were too busy with their other investigations to bother investigating the things that, in his opinion, truly mattered. He would have to do it himself.

Although he couldn’t find answers to his questions, thinking of them was a good way to pass time. On that particular day, he began ruminating at 1:30PM, immediately the after-hours cleaners ushered him and a few others into the empty classroom. It was already 3:00PM and he was starting to run out of steam. The arms of clock above the blackboard signaled the movement of time and each new move made it harder for him to keep himself busy with his musings.

He decided he would turn on time itself, since it was making the task so hard, so he asked himself what his life would be like if he was time. He wondered what exercises he would have to do to keep his jaw muscles strong enough to dictate human activity around the world each day. Would he be able to do the exercises? He’d picked up basketball earlier in the year but he’d had to give it up because practice took a heavy toll on his body, so he doubted it.

How did Time manage to keep up with the complexities of human life? It seemed to get worse each day. There was so much to do, so much to see, so much to listen to, and so much to think of. How did Time manage to serve as a guide for each person as they waded through the ever-increasing complexities of human life? What about the animals, the insects, and the other life forms? Time had to be a superhero of some sort.

I would ask Google, but it probably won't have answers to these questions too, he thought to himself as a sigh escaped his lips.

The only way to find answers would be to interview Time itself, but where would he find it? Where did it reside? Did it have a permanent office? Who did its representatives – clocks, watches and other time-telling devices – report to? What language did Time speak and how did it communicate with its agents to ensure they were doing their jobs efficiently and effectively? 

If he could interview time he would ask it why some people were unable to work effectively with it. Why were they always so busy with one thing or the other? Why did they lead lives like those of the bees? Were they engaged in war with Time? Or was Time punishing them for some misdeed by making itself unavailable to them? Could that be it?

Again, he would ask Google, but it probably wouldn’t have answers to these questions either. He rolled his eyeballs and exhaled loudly.

He was about to set his imagination loose when a pigeon flying past the window redirected his attention to the parking lot. His eyes settled on the red mini-van that had just pulled up in the car-park. He recognized the fading paintjob and the screeching noise that emanated from the bonnet. When the occupant of the car rushed out of the car, he knew she was in a rush because she had a very limited amount of time within which she could pick him up and return to work without anyone noticing.

While he had hoped the blue car would pull-up into the parking lot instead, he wasn’t surprised to see the car with fading red paint. The blue car was undoubtedly sunbathing on the asphalt beach surrounding the regional headquarters of the shipping company a few miles away. Its owner was certainly submerged in work despite knowing he had the day off. Joey had had a strong feeling earlier in the day that this would happen.

He turned his back to the window and sighed. He was feeling it again, and it worried him. As he predicted the events that were currently playing out before him, he had expected to feel something different. Although it was significantly less than what he had felt in the past, he believed this scene had played out too many times for him to still feel the way he did.

As he jumped off the desk he’d positioned beside the window, he sighed and consoled himself. Someday, he would search for the emotions and they would be nowhere to be found, he told himself. When “someday” came around, he would no longer have the hope in his heart that caused him to feel disappointed and betrayed.

As he pulled the desk back to its former position, he said, quietly, “Someday will come. I am sure it will.”

July 09, 2020 10:12

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2 comments

Sam Osbourne
21:19 Jul 15, 2020

Hi there! Critique Circle apparently? You're a brilliant writer! I think this is interesting, and your writing is smooth and cogent, a joy to read. The only few things I picked out that niggled on me (feel free to ignore!) were that the questions felt too frequent to me. I wonder, would the piece work better if there's one question the character ponders, as otherwise the reader doesn't get much insight. Also, talking about drivers as their coloured cars felt odd, within the time of the peace. Fascinating choice, but personally I thought i...

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Dolapo Omoleme
14:13 Jul 17, 2020

Thanks for your reply. As regards the questions, my goal was that each question expose us to his thoughts about the person he's waiting for, so when he asks questions about the bee, the bee is just a representation of the person he's waiting on, his father. And so when he wonders what the bee feels about it's work, and it's life choices, the questions aren't really about the bee, the questions are about his father. Perhaps I went a little overboard with it. Thanks for the feedback. I appreciate it. I'll make sure to check out Lali...

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