I sit at my desk, done for the day but the clock indicates that I have twenty-two more minutes to go.
With a small bit of effort I can piss away fifteen minutes but not fifteen minutes plus seven.
Too early to leave, too late to start something new.
I wonder about writing.
I wonder about life.
I wonder about how many of those irretrievable minutes of living I have squandered.
There will be more minutes tomorrow, right?
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