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---
title: Stagnant
genre: prose
project:
title: "Buildings out of air: Paul in the Woods"
css: paul
order: 27
next:
- title: Building
link: building
- title: Stump
link: stump
previous:
- title: Options
link: options
- title: Snow
link: snow
...
"Riding the bus to work is a good way to think or to read" Paul thought to
himself on the bus ride to work. His thoughts couldn't become real to him
because he didn't want to look insane to everyone else on the bus. His
thoughts came to him like someone yelling over a hard wind. He was trying to
write them on his memory but the act of writing was easier and more immediate
than that of listening. He was afraid that when he looked at his memory later
he wouldn't be able to read what was written.
"Thoughts are like the wind outside a moving bus" he thought "or rather the
bus is a brain slamming into columns of stagnant air causing them to whistle
past in a confusion of something." He could barely hear the voice yelling to
him over the wind. "Speak up" he thought to the voice, then remembered it was
his own. He wished he'd remembered a book to read.
He looked at his hands to pass the time. They were dry in the winter air that
had seeped its way into the bus. He tried to figure out how many hours they
would make it before cracking and bleeding. "Maybe three or four" he thought
accidentally out loud. He looked around expecting stares from everyone on the
seat. He was surprised that he was the only one on the bus.
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