(039)
Izzy taps her phone screen for the hundredth time to stop it from locking, a loop she’d been stuck in for well over an hour. She’d initially planned to be at her desk when the call came, but those plans had been scuppered by the sounds of drills and hammers coming from next door. So now she was sitting under a tree beside a river still waiting for the call – and the call was late.
It seemed like nothing to worry about at first, she was certain that they were just a little behind schedule.
After half an hour, however, the doubt had started to set in.
Was it today? Was I supposed to call? What if they don’t have the right number? I can’t check the email because what if they call and I happen to hit the part of the screen that rejects it while I’m looking…
An hour passes before she finally checks. Tapping quickly and in areas that are least likely to reject it if they did happen to call then…all info correct…back to the home screen. Battery at 34%…volume on high…have to save battery.
She lets it go dark.
Face to face with herself in the obsidian, she looks away.
The static buzz of anticipation pleads with her to open her screen again but she resists. She shuts her eyes and breathes in deeply, suddenly aware that she’d been almost holding her breath. Tension releases from her neck and shoulders as she exhales, and the world around her returns back into focus. Each of her senses are re-awakened to things she’d been ignoring. The feel of the gentle breeze on her face, the earthy must of the dirt mingling with the smell and the sounds of the river passing, and hidden within that – though so clearly that it was a wonder that it had ever been hidden at all – is the sound of baby birds. Izzy peers up into the branches, cocking her head to pinpoint them, when something red flits into her periphery.
Standing in the grass between her and the river is a robin. It surveys her from a distance, its little head swivelling to and fro to use both eyes.
Izzy stares back, unmoving.
A little burst of birdsong marks the end of its analysis, as it takes its eyes off of her and begins picking its way across the grass in delicate little hops. Izzy’s breath moves through her in a slow and steady rhythm, as though separate from herself. The bird rummages in the grass, unperturbed by her presence but occasionally peeking in her direction as it edges closer. She feels the weight of her own body pressing against the earth and the tree, and all at once she recognises her place as a part of the world around her.
The sudden vibration against her thigh startles her and sends the bird into flight; the piercing chimes of her ringtone puncture the moment to remind her why she’d come here.
She sits up straight and clears her throat, then swipes up on her screen and brings it to her ear.
“Hello?” She says. “Yes that’s correct,–”
Words crackle from the other end in apology.
“No, no it’s not a problem…I wasn’t doing anything.”
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