686 Bricks

There are six hundred and eighty six bricks in the wall behind her and nineteen words in this sentence. Here I am with a pretty girl in front of me and all that I am aware of is that there are six hundred and eighty six sodding bricks in that wall. I’ve not heard a word that she has said and I’m sure I don’t look interested in her either because my eyes have been fixed on that bloody brick wall.

I am trying to listen to her, she seems rather nice after all, but my mind keeps going back to the bricks, did I miss any? I check them again, but yes, the count was right. Damn, she’s noticed me looking at it. Now she’s looking around, I guess expecting to see something or someone more interesting but, no, just a plain brick wall. She seems hurt that I find that boring wall more interesting than her.

She’s leaving now, yet another one I’ve lost. I’m sure the fact that I was late didn’t help, I couldn’t really tell her that it had taken me fourteen minutes to switch off my hall light, I’m not sure she would have understood. I blame my father for that little obsession, I didn’t always get his little jokes and when he told me to turn the landing light off in case a plane landed on our house, I was terrified, what if I was responsible for the horrible deaths of my entire family, just because I left a light on? I should really move away from Heathrow, it is starting to become a problem.

The counting started off quite innocently too, I was bored, waiting for an exam to start, so I counted all of the desks in the hall, sixty in total, there were sixty two chairs – two were for the staff. I passed the exam with flying colours, so now I count everything, including the words in this essay. Three hundred and forty three, exactly half the number of bricks in that wall.