Christian Aquino

It was just past noon, 12:03 p.m. to be exact, that time of the day when shadows hide beneath one’s feet and everything appears stark, distinguished only by color, lacking depth.

By 8 a.m. I was in the dentist’s chair, / Shaking hands with people in scrubs.

Empty classrooms / Green trees at exactly noon / Music we all heard that one time / All of the above combined / Into the perfect moment.

Though the raft of reasoning I'd constructed while adrift was strong enough to weather the usual mood swells and wind, I was ignorant of just how bad things could get.

All you see is a deep, deep blue. You close your eyes, but you can’t escape into blackness. All you see is water.