Will this matter a year from now?

I collect minutes like stray pennies. I tuck them into my pockets, uncovering them every so often then tossing them away without a care. Because it’s just a penny, after all. One cent. One minute. Sixty little seconds. I forget they add up, slowly, when I’m not looking. I empty them into a jar without thinking, until one day I realize the jar is full. Not only with pennies. Sometimes there are nickels or dimes. Perhaps a quarter. If I really dig into the jar and spill the coins across my floor in a sea of forgotten moments that have piled up, a dollar bill might peek out at me. Like missing afternoons and lost weekends. Those months that fly by when I did nothing with them. I stack up my coins and imagine the places they could have taken me. With crossed legs and hopeful eyes, I consider them…

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