Textures
Today is a texture day. Which is odd because it is a glasses day, and they don’t seem as strong as my contacts. Nonetheless, textures are popping out everywhere I look. The furry fuzz of the seat. The delicate fabrics of the shirt. The slight coarseness of the hair. The bumps and dimples on the skin. The cold slickness of the metal chairs. The endless grooves in the floor. The tiny teeth on the zipper. I probably notice all of this because I have forgotten my earbuds today and the commute is not an audible one, with the exception of the occasional grinding of the train’s wheels as it turns and slows. There is nothing to taste or feel, obviously, so my eyes must be compensating during a time when they are normally closed. Maybe it’s the sun, streaking through the window, illuminating everything just right. More than likely, I am just bored.
