After a long day he was not in the mood to read. He put his fifty-nine year old copy of The Great Gatsby to one side and began staring out of the window. The low dulcet tones of the voice in his ears coupled with the monotonous rumbling of the bus lulled him towards a sleep-like state. The buildings of the city blurred together and then began fading into the outer-urban landscape. Somewhere in the transfer Marc's eyes closed.
They rolled back behind the lids, covering Marc's vision in a dull sepia tone. A soothing sight for a soothed mind. Then suddenly darkness. Utter and complete darkness as if the sun had been destroyed and perpetual black had fallen. This abrupt change caused a tremor of shock to run through Marc's mind. He had no position, no thoughts, no context and no existence in this sudden darkness. Marc quickly opened his eyes (out of shock more than fear) and the world reformed around him. The tunnel rolled back past the top of the bus and completely out of view.
It was as if his mind had broken and restarted itself. He could describe the sight outside the window; the concrete barriers and sterile grasslands. But they now meant something else. The words may have remained, but their essence was different. Marc saw the bridge and put his book back into his bag. He pressed the stop button and got off the bus at the usual stop at the usual time.
But nothing was usual ever again.
-The English Student
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