day 1
He woke up. Frying pans. Plates. Egg. Rice. It has begun. And he watched the steam, rising from his still warm coffee, brew war.
"Did I get the eggs right?"
A nod of acknowledgement with the clatter of spoon and fork.
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day 2
The whisper of a name yanks him from a cocoon of dreamlessness. Palpitations. Voiceless cursing. Humidity of new day. And only a dim awareness of droplets of sweat persisting, forming, nagging and winning.
"Hush now. You've just been dreaming."
A hand running through bedraggled hair with the resounding drop of a head on the pillow.
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There is nothing but his eyes flutter open. Sleep chased away. Weight. And there is nothing more painful than having to peel off covers wrapped around, stuck tight to the skin.
“It’s there today.”
Not even a stare with the rustle of the broadsheet’s pages to the obituaries.
٭
He is awake and watches dawn shatter through the blinds, conquering the empty room. Troubled breathing. Dark circles under bloodshot eyes. And he waits.
“Are you ready?”
A black pin placed over his heart with the assent of silence.
٭
He woke up. Frying pans. Plates. Egg. Rice. It will continue. And he watched the steam rising from his still warm coffee brew war.
5 comments:
"And there is nothing more painful than having to peel off covers wrapped around, stuck tight to the skin..."
*sad smile*
why peel off the covers? i would've just stayed in bed... mornings can be very cruel I agree. BUT... somewhere amidst the dread it seems this act of peeling off, is an act of defiance. hmmm.
Very beautiful writing... you make your readers live through every second of the scene. :) here's my fave line:
"A black pin placed over his heart with the assent of silence."
beautiful.
You seem sad again. What ever happened to the reason you had for smiling?
feels like a slow descent into depression.
you ok?
x
rax
thank you. :) you gave me a new perspective with your comment. about peeling of the covers being an act of defiance. and there's nothing i like better than new glasses to view the world through. ^__^ thank you!
anonymous moose
haha! no. definitely not sad. the words just come and they demand to be written. and so i write. slave to elusive thoughts. sometimes, i just write and it doesn't reflect at all the things that are happening to me. but at the time of writing, the emotions just run through me and i can't help but be consumed.
cj
yes, the piece was supposed to show that descent. and yes, i'm ok. just writing. ^__^ you're a dear to have asked. :)
you are most welcome :) but don't thank me, that view of "act of defiance" was from blue rogue, sometime around 7 years ago, when she found me waking up to cruel mornings way too often. :P
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