The Gregorian

I was yours. Until a moment ago.

I lit my cigarette and I close my eyes for a second.
The last warm rays of sun are touching my skin,
however it’s freezing outside.

Open. You are gone.
I barely remember your blue eyes.
I remember running my fingers through your hair.

But I am me again. The me I was looking for. The me,
you took away. With your sweet words and soft fingers.

I am staying me for a bit.

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On my right, there is a man, practically laying on the
ground. He’s asking the people around if someone
has a cigarette. Someone gave him one. I wasn’t really
looking, I even had my headphones in but he caught
my attention so I put my music down.
– How old are you? He was asking the students who
gave him the fag.
– We’re young.
– HAHA, Do you know how old I am, come on take a
guess!
The students didn’t say anything.
– Im 147. You are wondering how?! I don’t look that
old do I.
I wish I could turn around and look at their faces but
he probably would have dragged me into the
conversation as well, so I didn’t.
He kept going on how he was following the Gregorian
calendar and apparently he had a birthday 4 times a
year. Correct me if I am wrong, we all use that calendar.
I tried to keep my giggle inside and not make a sound.
He kept going. He had a guitar and even though he looked
homeless, he seemed pretty happy.
The students didn’t keep up with the conversation so after
another minute he stopped talking. He took his guitar and
started playing, enjoying his cigarette.

 

Apparently the Gregorian is almost right. Almost. It is,
however 27 seconds too long, so it is off by 1 day every
3236 years.

I wonder what was going on in this crazy head of his.

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