Amirae

Time - 1

It's like time only moves slowly when you're watching the clock.

Your ride told you they'll be there at 11:30? It feels like it's been 11:25 for half an hour.  The last 10 seconds of a lap on the treadmill is the equivalent of 10 minutes of unbridled physical exhaustion. You've miraculously woken up before your alarm went off? So you spend the next 10 minutes frantically glancing at the red numbers on the clock. If you don't take your eyes off of the time, it stays the same. But the second you turn away, 2 minutes have passed.

Then there's the phenomenon of constantly coming back despite knowing exactly what you'll find, still avoiding eye contact with the time on the oven clock as if that's going to stop you from "just so happening" to glance at the stove dial, then the buttons and AHA. Your peripheral somehow caught the time! 11:26. Then there's a moment of relief. Time is moving again.

Humans are the most cowardly when it comes to time. They think they have all the time in the world until an unexpected loss, a fast moving clock or a deadline comes and sucks the life out of them.

Like a punch that sucks the breath from your lungs. Time stops. For a fraction of a second, everything feels so sensual that its like pins and needles are gently tapping your whole body. All of the air has been sucked out of the room and you're suspended in space, floating into the abyss. Peace.

Now everything is moving in slow motion. Then faster and faster and faster and faster. Then faster. And faster. And time has suddenly restarted.

Pain, breath, reality has somehow miraculously restarted. And that moment's sensation will never return, no matter how much you need it to.

This faceted train of thought was exactly what ran through Amirae's mind as she sat, quite still and quite uncomfortably, mind you, in a hard metal chair in a dank, concrete room.

A petite blonde woman with a skin tight pencil skirt and a voice that sounded like honey had brought her here, just minutes ago.

"Hon, we'll have someone here with you shortly. Just let me know if you need anything." was her curt farewell before she quickly walked out and shut the door with a loud thud.

Amirae blinked dumbfoundedly at the large metal door as she listened to the rhythmic click-clack click-clack click-clack of heels getting further and further away.

She didn't even wait for a response... At least she seemed nice.

All alone, she took this chance to observe her temporary holding space. The walls were made of dull, dark grey concrete, along with the floors and ceiling. The only source of light was a singular wired lightbulb barred into the ceiling and a few depressing flickering lamps scattered along the walls.

The furniture in the relatively empty room consisted of a table, two creaky chairs set on opposite sides of the table, and a large mechanical looking door, all of these things made of metal. Lastly, there was a large black clock set at the dead center of the wall just opposite the door. It was almost unnerving to look at. The clicks of the dial sounded forced and daunting, echoing through the prison cell esqe room easily. What a perfect way to set the mood!

It was just like those interrogation rooms in the movies. Yet this room was slightly more intimidating. Not to mention, freezing cold. 

Growing bored of pacing the boring room, Amirae finally made her way to what she assumed was her seat and slowly pulled back the chair. Much to her surprise, there wasn't that loud earbleed inducing sound that most metal chairs make. It was just a barely audible, unsettling dragging noise.

And so she sat, drumming her fingers, tapping her feet, moving in any way she could without physically removing herself from the chair.

Glancing at the clock, then staring. Realizing that staring wouldn't do anything and going right back to tapping.