The Last Frost Fair

It's early in the morning, in that special hour of quiet when nothing stirs. Outside the space that defines home, the world is dark. The house settles fractionally into the earth. In this year nineteen-ninety-three it seems certain that nothing will ever change. All futures are written. Destiny is frozen. I am listening to music using the popular medium of the time, the compact disc. This particular disc becomes stuck, repeating a short recycled loop for a minute. Then the laser shifts lazily onwards, only to get stuck again a moment later. Transfixed, I listen. The world is frozen. The hour is eternal. Crystalline sounds circle my head in a beautiful array of ever-changing stasis.