It’s cold. I can feel the dense air creep in through a window I’ve kept ajar. Fooled again by warm spring nights. Will I never learn? The alarm clock screams its reveille. For the second time this morning I silence its report. It would be a shame to release the heat my quilt so tirelessly held prisoner. The byproduct of frantic metabolism exhausts into the surrounding atmosphere. I’m sorry I betrayed you. I am awake.
Lights explode; my hands rest on porcelain and particleboard. Still fuzzy I greet myself. Staring into staring, search the wall. Click. Smothered by the void. My eyes adjust to the darkness. The iris opens. Click. My pupils slam shut, keeping me out, keeping me in.
Pounding and pumping, gripping my chest. Where am I in this place? My eyes, my heart, my fingers and toes, I can feel the cold tile slowing my bones.
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