Time Zones

The lights stream down from the roof, as the music drums against her ears. With one hand holding a glass and the other in the air, she sways to the music before deciding to get to the dance floor. She kicks off her shoes; it's best to be comfortable now.

Here in the center of the floor, the music is much louder, mingled with the shouts and laughter of the crowd she is among. Her feet ache, but it is not often that these moments arise, these opportunities to let go. Opportunities to silence the voices in her head, to forget about all the wrongs and the hurt. Yes, she can endure the pain a little while longer; after all, it's more than worth it.

And so she dances, she drinks, and she dances some more. Yet, in the midst of it all, she finds time to glance at her phone. The music, the beats and the high are still not enough to escape that one final habit. She looks at the time - almost midnight. But somewhere, this night is over and tomorrow has already begun. Somewhere, it is already morning, and the music, the beats, the joy have all faded away like the morning mist.

Somewhere.

---

The sunlight streams through the windows, accompanied by the melodic chirping of the birds outside. With one hand on his temple, and one on his hip, he shakes his head slowly before deciding to sit down on the sofa. He stretches his feet; it's best to be comfortable now.

For there, in the center of the room, the shouting is loud, overpowering the pleasant feathery falsetto's from the window. His heart aches, but it is not often that he is here to witness these moments now, these incidents when something finally gives way. Incidents that drown out everything else in his life, and replace them with hurt and wrong. Yes, he can endure the heart ache a little longer; after all, if he doesn't do it, who will? In the end, he tells himself, it will all be worth it.

And so he listens, he shouts, he reasons, and he listens some more. Yet, in the midst of it all, he finds the time to glance at his phone. The anger, the hurt and yelling are not enough to quell that one habit. He looks at the time - almost noon. But somewhere, it is still yesterday and this day, with all it's issues, hasn't even begun yet. Somewhere, it is still night time, and the peace of the night is, to the raised voices, like the calm before the storm.

Somewhere.