When I woke up, I was only facing myself.
Three mirrors. Three versions of me.
One hadn’t started yet.
One was staring at the clock.
One was lost among unfinished things.
And in the corner, the rabbit was waiting.
Not running. Not rushing.
Just standing there with that quiet, knowing look as if he already knew I would be late again.
He held his watch, but didn’t even look at it.
Because he knew I was already thinking about time enough.
Every time I looked into one of the mirrors, I saw myself a little further behind… a little more tired… a little farther from who I wanted to be.
And the rabbit was still there. Waiting.
The real urgency wasn’t the running of time.
It was my fear of falling behind.
batsoupyum
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