It's a quarter to the second hour of the new day, fifth of this month of October.
I sit at my desk, huddled against the chill. My pencil held in fingers growing ever colder. An itch threatens to dispel my hard-earned concentration, it's worming into my eyes. Under my lids, scampering across my skin. An even deeper sensation stems from this itch, an ache - burrowing into my skull. Centred on my eyes, hidden behind my forehead.
Time passes like sand through my fingers, slipping away without end.
It's ten to the second hour of the new day, fifth of this month of October.
Distractions, everywhere. They invade, pervading my senses, subjugating my mind and taking hostage my free will. Oh, how I loathe them.
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