The Red Ball

by james mathias / 2017 / fictional

I remember the first time I saw the red ball.

Sitting in my office, preparing for the week, red began to seep into the corner of my eye. I glanced over and saw a small, bright red ball roll from the front hall into my office’s doorway. I continued working, but could feel it moving about, trying to get my attention. I turned slowly as if I were trying to catch the ball in the act. Once it saw me it stopped. I stared for five minutes, it stayed perfectly still, as if it knew I was watching.

I convinced myself that I was crazy. Balls don’t roll themselves, and they certainly aren’t aware of their surroundings.

I didn’t see the ball leave my door, but it was gone. It stayed gone for a long time.

At the core none of us were meant to be common. We were born to be comets. Darting across space and time, leaving our mark as we crash into everything.

Donovan Livingston circa 2016, Havard Commencement