Moment | Jennifer Belliston

It had been a hectic day. Since 7:00 a.m. I had been running around in meaningless circles, catering to the whims of those around me. Finally, it was time to go home and I tried to relax as I meandered the short distance to my apartment. Upon my arrival, I promptly inserted the fantastic CD of upbeat piano recordings that I had purchased the week before. While my instant dinner warmed on the stove I shuffled to my room and hurled the deadweight of my backpack toward my bed like handcuffed athlete hurls a 200 pound discus. I returned downstairs, shoveled a mountain of creamy macaroni and cheese onto my plate, grabbed a cup of tepid tap water and sat down at the table. Ravenously, I excavated a large cavern in my oozing mountain and settled back to the sweet task of enjoyment. Sitting there, with my eyes partially closed, I realized that I was alone. My roommates were absent leaving a sweet aura of solitude lurking in every corner of the house. The girls next door had already left for their nightly man seducing rituals. The neighborhood cars sat in frozen silence. I was alone; completely alone. Finally.