Existentialism

2: action and inaction

SATURDAY NOVEMBER 7TH, 2009

You've always loved the peacefulness that only Saturday mornings in autumn can bring.

Guiltlessly waking up at noon to fog dusting the windows. Retracting the tip of your toes from the cool hardwood floor, only replacing them once they were protected by fuzzy, white cotton. Going through simple morning routines that seemed a little less tedious now that the temperature dropped. Not bothering to change out of pajamas and wrapping a blanket around yourself as you settle on the couch. Wasting the day away watching holiday themed movies while colorful leaves descend from willowing trees. Sipping too-hot hot chocolate that burned tastebuds to the touch, but was too good not to drink.

Worries from the week before or week to come were nonexistent at the moment. Being content while reading my favorite classics as my record player flooded the walls with delicate sounds of orchestral arrangements from composers long gone.

You were engulfed in such matters for what revealed to be hours as you looked at the wall clock to see it was half-past 3 p.m. You figure now would be a good time to eat, seeing as you hadn't since dinner last night over twelve hours ago, your stomach giving a loud grumble in agreement. You walk over to your refrigerator, opening it before sighing.

Note to self: grocery shopping first thing tomorrow morning.

Swaying softly to the music, you managed to assemble a simple turkey and cheese sandwich with additional toppings along with some semi-fresh fruit. You were licking excess food off your fingertips when your phone rang on the countertop, scaring the living daylights out of you as well. Once you calmed your heart rate, you look at the screen, not recognizing the number that was calling. You could see from the area code that the caller was located near here, but they weren't saved in your contacts. Not that you had many. Outside of work and family, you didn't have many people you talked to. Though that's beside the point.

You let it ring and go to voice mail before heading back to your seated position on the couch, beginning Dr.Seuss' 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas'— yes you know it's not Thanksgiving yet, but it's never to early to get in the spirit—only to be interrupted by another call from the same number. You let it ring again, placing your focus on the Christmas classic. There was peace for all of two minutes before the third ring made its arrival. You assumed it wasn't spam and possibly someone whose number you forget to save, or a serial killer who was going to make me a pawn in a gruesome game of hide and go die. You weighed your options, deciding on the last ring to answer the call.

"Hello?" You mumbled cautiously.

"Hi," someone said hesitantly.

"Hi."

You both fell silent for a moment. Neither knowing what to say after the meek greetings. Though, the caller broke the static silence by uttering, "This is Dr. Spencer Reid. From your guest lecture on Wednesday."

Dr. Reid?

"Dr. Reid! Hi, how are you?"

"Good, thank you for asking!" he replied, matching your enthusiastic tone, "I wanted to call and apologize for leaving the lecture early, I hope we weren't of much trouble."

"Oh, you're fine. Never apologize for doing your job, especially when it's saving lives."

"Are you sure, because-"

"Dr. Reid, I assure you, you're perfectly fine. Though, I'd have no complaints with you guys coming back."

"Oh, ok." he said simply.