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Savant
This is an old beginning to a story that I may come back to some day. It was originally going to be about a kid that can only remember events by numbers.
Monday
I wake up and get out of bed calmly.
No, I don’t. I groan at the clock and reach for the fan’s chain because my heater only functions at night. It’s three clicks to get the blades to stop, but God knows I will click four. So, I waste a minute and get frustrated and decide to stop it all together with my hand. I am bound to smolder the motor eventually, but it doesn’t matter at the moment.
It finally stops, and for that brief second that I contemplate falling back into bed, I just think about why I turn on the damned fan on every night when I know each morning I will unthinkingly regret it.
I am under more covers then I went to bed with. I give the clock an extra ten minutes and hope that it will startle me enough so I can wake up. It doesn’t though. Clocks don’t care about school and work. My eyes are open staring at the wall the entire time, but it’s a void to my head. It’s not until the covers begin to be humid that I embark on getting out and starting my day. Either that, or turn the fan on.
It’s seven fifty three. I am already one hundred and eighty seconds late. I mentally note to myself that I need to be more efficient.
It’s eight steps to the bathroom, six to the living room, and ten to the kitchen. I give or take three steps, in case that the kitchen floor is cold. So, that should be twenty-four steps, if I could be optimal. The shower needs to run to warm up since I am at the top of the apartment complex; it’s usually takes eighty three seconds. At least it’s a good number.
If I take off my clothes before hand, I can save some time, since I will already be in the bathroom. But, usually, I like grabbing a drink to quench my morning thirst, however there are six broken blinds on my balcony window. It would be embarrassing if someone saw me naked, but that only happens on rare occasions. It has to be random because I don’t know the pattern yet.
I chance it.
I hop back in the shower and try to remember that the shower turns cold after six minutes. I am sure I will daze off again, so I concentrate on washing my legs.
Shower is done, so I need clothes. I stare at my closet and mull over if I am going to school or work. It’s Monday, so it could be either. Is it the fifteenth or sixteenth though? I am sure there is a holiday somewhere around that time.
The fan’s rotation is back to its old speed. I need something, just anything. I figure it’s a fifty-fifty chance of being right.
I guess I am going to school.
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School
I don’t like walking to school. Actually, I do, I just hate sidewalks.
I have been living on my own since eighth grade. I don’t think the land keeper knows I live in her apartment though. I have never seen anyone on my floor either… Don’t know why though. My room is the first room from the stairs, 119; it’s a first-class number.
I wrote an entry in my journal for math once about it. My room number is the largest amount of money, in coins, without being able to make change for a dollar. I noted to him after class that it’s the combination of three quarters, four dimes, and four pennies; I even told him that if you add the coins up, it’s eleven; another good number. He didn’t care. What a waste of a math teacher.
I noticed I am dreaming again and have miscount one of the slabs of concrete. I have to stop doing that. My pen scribbles a few letters on the crumbled up legal pad I carry with me. I have to remember that it takes 269 steps. I can’t be off or I will miss the school.
The longest official chess game on record, 269 moves, took place in Yugoslavia on 2/17/89, and ended in a draw. Note to self that 2, 17, 89, and 269, are all good numbers.
Okay, ninth tree, so I should turn. I wish my streets were normal. I hate names.
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That's pretty much all I had at the time. I just never could develop the concept any further really. I tried to give it a first-person crazy appeal.
Maybe you guys have better ideas?
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