Noon Stays Noon

The microwave display is stuck on 12:00.

I won't fix it. Something about leaving it blinking

feels like the honest thing to do.

Everyone at the office was already laughing about it this morning—

how they lit candles, how they sat in the dark like they were camping,

how quiet it was, almost nice.

But at the intersection on Fifth every traffic light went red at once

and nobody knew what to move first.

A woman two cars ahead just sat eating a sandwich.

My body still thinks it's noon.

I keep checking my phone and it says 6:47 but my bones say 3 o'clock

and the office is humming like nothing happened.

The grid came back on.

My fingers are tired from nothing.

I'm waiting for the next time the power dies.