Comfort in Distraction

Dan continued his asinine ritual for countless cycles. Phone off the hook, quarter in the slot, wait for the metallic ring of the coin to finish, press '0', nothingness, replace receiver, collect coin. The weight of the receiver provided him with comfort, as did the ring of the coin entering and exiting the apparatus.

His thoughts were focused on the concrete at first, the shape and smoothness of the receiver, the clanking change container. But the longer he completed the cycle the less he was able to concentrate merely on the physical actions. The abstract questions threatened to flood his systems, and the ritual had held them at bay, briefly.

For the first time Dan gazed beyond the glass walls encasing the phone booth. On all sides fog hid the landscape behind it. Dan rotated inside box. He could not remember when he arrived at the box or how come he needed to be there.

He stood frozen, with the receiver dangling from his hand. Dan placed the black piece back onto its cradle. The machine trembled as the coin once more appeared in the jutting, curved, slot. He stood as if gazing into headlights, mesmerized by the dull, used quarter. The coin resting in its tiny home prompted him to recall how he had stumbled upon this box.

He remembered opening the door to the phone booth with excitement. He had peered through the glass before, and, despite having nothing on his person, had spied the quarter lying in the change return cradle. What a blessing he had thought, what good luck he had come across!

But as time marched on in its relentless manner, his perspective had changed. The coin, once his savior, now encased him in a loop. Passing seconds grew into minutes, minutes matured into hours. 

The cold, apathetic box had become Dan's home. Not out of necessity or benefit, but out of comfort. His aching insides did not want to forge on, but preferred relief. For as long as this ritual helped momentarily sustain the crumbling dam of consciousness, it was enough.

End of part 2
Another continuation of the story, no lyrical references in this one, though I do hope to tie it all together someday, somehow. I wrote the majority of it on my blackberry during the flight to see my brother and father. I also read "The Light Between Oceans", a phenomenal fiction novel by M. L. Stedman during the break. I recommend it to everyone.