He woke up cold, not knowing the time. The wind was blowing, the cold pressing through the cracks in the door and the windows. The hands of his watch were barely glowing in the darkness, but he made out that it was just after 3:00am. His thoughts were too slow to care, but his body ached in the cold. His hand moved on its own, flipping a switch. In a moment there was the clinking of oil heating through metal. Knowing that warmth was soon to come, he pulled the blankets back over his head and fell back to sleep.
The radio whined to life at 5:30. An eerie, scrambled signal of what could have been news was struggling to come through. The strange sounds and voices were shaking into his dreams like the wrong ingredients in a perfect recipe. Through the horror and disappointment of this, his consciousness winked its way into existence, stabbing at the controls. “Food”, he thought, and he pulled himself out of his bag despite the cold. He sprinkled 2 carefully overfilled tablespoons of a white powder into his cup, and then filled it with water. He stared off into space while he stirred, like a zombie with no particular place to be. At this particular moment he wasn’t much more. He took a sip of the cold, white drink, and forced down his throat two pills. He drank the liquid about half way down, then filled the rest of the cup with something from a brightly colored plastic bag.
“Coffee” his mind told him, even before his breakfast cup was empty. He tottered to a large plastic basin, pulled out some cups of water, and skillfully poured them into the kettle, taking a strange and special pride in never spilling a drop. Then, striking a match carefully(the things were always apt to breaking, and each one was a bit of a special commodity), he lit the stove, and waited patiently for the water to boil, destroying the lives of whatever might live within. The dishes from the night before were in another basin, still waiting for him. “And then there’s that,” he noted, wishing in his waking state that they could be cleaned without the icy, stinging water biting at his fingertips as he scrubbed. He sighed, his shoulders bent and loose in spite of the cold, and set upon them.
The coffee was nice. It always was, but it brought with it an alertness he felt unfitting for the darkness of the morning. Next was the wardrobe. He took off his clothes, standing naked and shivering. “New socks, new underwear, and about 40 layers should be good today,” he said aloud. He shuffled through his clothes, feet freezing on the cold and unforgiving floor, and dressed himself for the day’s work. Four shirts, a pair of trousers, and some clean socks and underwear. He wouldn’t look professional, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Warmth was all that mattered.
Later, he spit into the bucket, rinsed the remaining toothpaste out from his mouth, and glanced back at the clock. 7:20. Almost time. He peeked out the blinds. The clouds were beautiful. He tossed his rain jacket carelessly into his bag and was ready to go. With his hand on the handle of the door, he looked back, checking to see that all was in order in his home. He could see a jar of peaches on the counter was going bad. A healthy, bubbly froth was brewing in the jar. Life! It reminded him of a bath. A real one, with smells and bubbles and warm running water. “Looks good,” he said, not knowing in his mind to what exactly or to whom he was referring.
He took a deep breath, turned the handle and stepped out into the beautiful, frosty winter morning.
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I decided today that it might be fun to write about my life from a different perspective. Today was particularly boring, so I decided to focus on the insignificant little details of my life that I wouldn’t have noticed unless I took another look at them. Literally nothing happens here except for my waking up and getting ready for school. The result, I think feels too melodramatic at times, but it was fun to write, and I plan on writing the rest of my day some time tomorrow. Hope you enjoyed.
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Loved reading this. Your slippers! I have them here, wastefully sitting in your box. BAD, BAD MOM!!! I feel like I did when I made you sleep with a scorpian…it bit you – made you sick. I have your vitamins too…so sorry:(
This reads like Basic Training during the Winter of ’63 at Fort Polk, Louisiana.
U. B.