Hacker

Is it the long list of pressing things that need to be done,
by a certain date, certain time
Maybe it's the ever-present drizzle
And the fear of slipping on the concrete in shoes not designed for wet weather.
Is it the forced imbibing of a book, published in 1986, that turned out to be pleasing to read, cocooned in a nest of featherdown with eyes itching from tiredness?
The leftover coffee foam is sugary sweet, remaining on the walls of the glass in a way I can't quite explain (perhaps because it's separated from the rest, just like this?)
I hid my disappointment in my generic choices, my wide and expansive choices
'I hate accounting, I hate numbers, I just don't understand them. I refuse to study something I hate.'
'It's education' he said. 'Sometimes you don't get a choice.'
I told her about this
As well as this vice of mine, that I maintain isn't an outpouring of emotion (I hate that, in a public forum).
Maybe it's because I need a response, a 5pm Monday response, that's why I'm this way inclined, today, yesterday? (Write it, write it, write it).