The time I made a mess of a Grande at Starbucks.

I took a later train than usual.

After finishing a big project, it was a day free from time constraints.
It was a rare day with no meetings or appointments.

I made the most of flex time, leaving the house last after seeing the kids off to kindergarten and school.
Since I'm usually the first one out the door, I headed to the station feeling a bit giddy, somewhere between restless and excited.

Just by shifting my commute time slightly, the train had plenty of empty seats. I sat down in an open spot and put on my wireless earphones. I pulled out my smartphone and tapped the streaming app.
What I've been into lately is the 'Recommended for You' playlist. It's convenient because it plays a good mix of songs I listen to often and other tracks I might know around those.

Wrapped in the warmth from the window, I started to doze off. Pshhh. Clack-clack, clack-clack.
The train moved along, feeling a bit more leisurely than usual.

+

I escaped to the surface from the deep underground Shibuya station by taking the long escalator.
I was happy to find the weather just as pleasant as before.

As I started walking toward the side street, a beat that made my steps dance flowed into my ears. It was a track used in a movie I saw recently, and since I'd played it a few times, it must have been recommended to me. Earth, Wind & Fire's 'September'.
It was perfect for the pleasant morning mood, and I praised Spotify from the intro, thinking, 'Oh, you get it.' You really get it!

I don't have any meetings today, but my work has piled up. I need a massive coffee.
On the way to work, with a light step and keeping to the beat, I stopped by the nearest Starbucks.

+

The mornings are always crowded, but since it was a bit later today, the Starbucks was empty. I was happy.

'Good morning!'

Since it's the one nearest to my workplace, the staff are familiar faces. I nodded, took out one earphone, and paused the upbeat track.

I love how Starbucks always smells like a trip abroad, no matter when you go. What is that? Even though I come here all the time, I still get a little nervous and talk too fast whenever I order. What is that about?

'A Grande drip coffee, hot, please.'
'Certainly.'

I took the receipt, put my earphone back in, and resumed the upbeat track. Hey, hey, hey!!

The staff here are always in a good mood (it's amazing), which I appreciate. Even during the morning rush, they handle things smoothly, being both cheerful and efficient at the same time. It's honestly a pleasure to watch. They are incredibly skillful.

...Wait, they're too good.
...Are they too good?
Are they in a hurry...?

I feel like I heard them say, 'It will take about 3 minutes to brew, is that okay?' Hmm...? What do they mean by 'is that okay'...?
When I stared at their efficient movements, the staff member noticed and gave me an apologetic nod from in front of the coffee machine.

・

・

・

At that moment, I realized everything.

I entered the store later than usual,
rushing in (with a light step),
ordering quickly (a sign of nervousness),
and waiting while fidgeting (feeling the groove).

Yeah. They definitely think I'm someone who's in a rush because I'm going to be late.

My groove is definitely being perceived as irritation. They think I'm in a huge hurry. Probably.
As a result of Earth, Wind & Fire passing through my body, only the wind and fire were released, causing me to burn like a raging inferno, and a restless, hurried person was born. Why, world...!! Why is this happening.
I'm waiting (or so they think) with the face of Takeda Shingen, saying "Mmm!" like the wind and fire.

No, that's not it...!! Actually, if anything, I have plenty of time today...

"Yes! Thank you for waiting!"

Before I could even start to explain, the massive coffee I ordered was thrust toward me. The upbeat rhythm enveloping my ears, and the "Yes!" that cut through it. Yes, it was exactly like a volleyball team.

......Peeeeeeep!!

The whistle blew.
A bullet serve (the giant coffee) came flying at me.

Wait, does this mean I have to hurry now...!? It does, doesn't it!! There's no turning back now!!!

For some reason, I felt compelled to jog, then dash. I hurriedly received the Grande. Receive!

"Yes!"

Before I knew it, another staff member had swung the exit door wide open and was beckoning me.
A setter! She's a setter!!

......The toss went up.

Prefectural tournament finals. Final set. One more point. One more point to the Inter-High. The three years I spent running were all for today. Here. Now. For this very moment.
I'm going to!! Score!!!

Attack!!!

"......Nnnngh! (sound of inhaling through the nose) Thank you very much!!!"
"Have a great day!"

・

・

・

……Phew.

I ran to the corner, turned it for no reason, and then jogged for a few more meters to cool down. Beep. Match over, game set.

How did it come to this…?

Ba-dee-ya, dancing while jogging. Where on earth did I take the wrong turn?
Do you remember?, indeed.

I walked to work with that dripping wet Grande in my hand.

＋

The speed at which I live is different from other people.
I wonder when exactly I first realized that.

That slight disconnect everyone feels.
I thought I’d get better at handling this once I became an adult, but here I am, halfway through my thirties, still thinking the same thing. I definitely have that feeling of 'I've arrived here.'
No, isn't the staircase to adulthood too long? Though, I do get bigger every year in my health checkups (mostly sideways), so I should still have potential. Even though I feel like I'm gasping for air every day, for some reason, my eyesight improved to 1.2 recently. Why?

The sediment of the heart that gradually accumulates in such daily life.
Words I lost the timing to say. A first love I failed to get over. Scratches on the heart I only notice later.
When my jogging was in vain, and I became a volleyball player with a Grande in my hand.

Yes. Always, before I know it, I’m jogging to try and reconcile that disconnect somehow.

……Why?

＋

For example, it’s the same with just having a conversation.
Most conversations are too fast. The back-and-forth of conversation isn't the friendly kind between a parent and child, but more like a 'Serve!' exchange—ping-pong, ping-pong, just like table tennis.
Suddenly. Casually. A high-speed rally breaks out out of nowhere. The frequency of those encounters is just something else.

……Thank you, I’m doing my best to keep up.

No, isn't everyone’s brain moving too fast? If your head is spinning, aren't you already an exorcist? Or maybe your head is spinning like the magicians, The Napoleons. The Napoleons exchanging rallies while spinning at super-high speeds. If that’s the case, it’s a horror movie either way, isn't it? ……Because I waste time thinking about things like that, I end up a lap behind before I know it.
I try to make up for it, but… it’s already too late. Sushi on a rotating plate. Before I know it, it’s a surprise.

I’ve become an astronaut left behind.

……Who was it that sang that tears dry at the speed the Earth rotates? Instead, if you let your guard down, you’re immediately pulled by centrifugal force and your consciousness flies into the atmosphere. You carelessly let go, and you’re left feeling adrift, unable to keep your feet on the ground. Where am I?
Sigh, the Earth is really tough. A world that rotates in 24 hours a day is too fast for me. Maybe I’m not a child of Earth. I might as well be born on Mars.
A day on Mars is 24 hours and 40 minutes. I’m very envious of those 40 minutes that feel like a breath of air.

The tuning of life. Everyone else but me.

To try and match the rhythm of the world even a little, I live my days somehow jogging through it. A pathetic, jogging style of life. Surely, the dripping Grande will be redeemed in heaven. If not, I can't go on, Grande….

I should have done that.
Why did I do this?
I’m about to be buried by the various large and small 'things I can no longer take back' that I encounter every day.

What do you do in times like that?

Yes, that is why, right now,
I am writing this.

+

That "something" I couldn't keep up with at a jog,
this "something" I couldn't catch at a speed that defies explanation.

When I finally catch up after taking the time to chew on and digest those "this and that" things,
I write about that "something" in essays or short stories.

I fly into the past, return to it, put my feelings from that time into words, and tap them out on my smartphone. Reflecting on life, almost like transcribing a sutra.

Of course, writing doesn't change reality at all.
But strangely, there are times when I feel a little bit saved. Times when I feel like I was finally able to understand the me from back then.

A vague feeling. An emotion that cannot be named immediately. A voice that exists only within the heart, not yet fully formed into words.

I apply letters to such things, organize the flow, perform construction, and give them shape. Flood control for emotions. Text becomes a dam, a waterway, damming things up or letting them flow. I swim there, or scoop some up to drink.

As I play while writing, the resolution of "that time" gradually increases, and my heart emerges clearly. When that happens, air enters my lungs and I can breathe.
An air hole pierced into the heart. With that, I manage to catch my breath. Writing is the most accessible time machine.

Unfortunately, while we are still in a future where there is no cat-shaped robot, even without him, I can fly to the past anytime with just a smartphone. Humanity has progressed at least that much, hasn't it?
Thank you, it's a great system.

Another thing is that writing is also a time capsule.

When I write things down and leave them, sometimes when I reread them on some occasion, I am surprised, thinking, "Oh, I was thinking about things like this.". A time capsule that I can dig up and reread at any time.
Essays are very convenient. Good job, humanity. A nice invention. A modern secret gadget that anyone can use.

By writing, I can go to both the future and the past.
This is an amazing thing.

+

Come to think of it, "September" seems to be a song about remembering September in December, not about September itself.
That day the two of you met. Do you remember dancing until midnight? The trivial chatter with you. Let's always remember today, when we are sharing true love. A love letter for a three-month anniversary like that.
I can't even remember what I had for lunch the day before yesterday, but "Do you remember?", it seems that for a masterpiece, jumping over three months is easy. Amazing.

But it's okay even if it's not a masterpiece.
Even in days that don't go as planned, even on days that are only cloudy, if you write, you can make the past a little sunnier.

My awkward days. But because I can think "that's fine anyway" by writing about them.

Who was it that wrote about continuing to dance? Was it Haruki Murakami? I wonder if he also finds himself jogging at times. I'm sure he does, and I hope he does.

Today, too, I will survive by jogging and dancing, trying to keep up with the world as much as I can.

With a dripping Grande in one hand, I write about 'something' that occasionally catches up to me.

The end.

This essay is a piece I wrote and performed at the reading event 'Floating Stardust - Words Before Falling into the Sky,' where we weave essays and give them voice!