A Knotted Lace

When did it start, this walking with earphones in and nothing playing. The dawn air is still cold, and only after I fasten my buttons and pull down my sleeves can I see where my steps should land. I, too, have started wearing earphones with nothing playing more and more. On the bus, with the scenery slipping past the window without a sound, that was when I could finally hear my own footsteps. Once, waiting for the bus with my earphones in, I suddenly noticed my shoelace had come undone. I started to take my hand out of my pocket, then left it where it was. Only after I'd put my cold hand back in did the bus come into view. If I count the lights going out, I've left that much time behind on the bus. That sound changes a little each time the window passes beneath a streetlight. At the end of the alley the sound of the bus disappears, and that light, too, is on its way somewhere in the end. I took out my earphones and tied that loose lace into a knot. The knot was firm, and only then did both my hands feel light as the pans of a scale.