I Paid Attention the Second Time

Halfway through the trailer, something clicked. Not a vague sense of familiarity, actual memory. I had seen this. I had sat in almost this exact position, on this exact couch, probably with a mug that wasn't quite full, and watched the whole thing.

I watched it again anyway. And this is the part I didn't expect: it was better. Not because the film is better the second time, though it might be, but because I already knew where the tension was going, so I could watch the thing underneath the tension instead. The scene I'd half-remembered as a quiet one turned out to have this whole low register of something happening that I'd completely skipped over the first time. I noticed it on a Thursday in October and felt absurdly pleased with myself, the way you do when you find a twenty in a coat pocket except the coat is your own attention.

watching for the thing she missed the first time

The mug went cold. I didn't move to heat it up. That's how I know it was actually worth sitting still for.

The prints are still leaning against the kitchen wall, by the way. The windowsill arrangement caught some good lamp light tonight, the cord's shadow doing its thing a little differently at this angle than it does in the mornings. October light. It has opinions.