J.G. Chayko

We stood in the hallway, just he and I in our own little bubble, while the party raged on around us. His sandy hair kissed the top of his forehead, inviting me to run my fingers through the silky strands. His deep blue eyes looked into my soul and my heart quivered at the very nearness of him. He reached out to me and our fingers touched, sending electric shivers down my spine. His voice was deep and smooth. . “Hello, my name is…BEEP, BEEP, BEEP”….an obnoxious, high-pitched noise drowned out his name. “What?” I yelled, trying to hear his name through the clamour. “I said, my name is….”

My alarm yells at me and I slap my hand across the button, silencing the offensive noise, my dream guy dissipating in the wake of reality. I lift my head, the room spinning around me, and slam it back into the softness of my pillow. My body feels thick as if someone had injected morphine into my bloodstream. My rigid joints snub my effort to move from the warm spot in my bed, shrinking at the cool air. I struggle to free myself from the twisted sheets wrapped around me like a python, effectively knocking a picture frame from my table and stubbing my toe on my vanity bench. I stumble out to the kitchen, my eyes mottled with sleep dust. I fill the kettle in darkness, fearing the attack of bright light on my pupils, and knock my coffee tin to the floor, spraying grounds across my counter. I hear the crack of air pockets from my bones as I bend down to face mewing cats demanding to be fed, banging my head into the open cupboard door, scooping yogurt into the cat bowls and cat food into my lunch container; the old lady lies on the couch watching with sleepy eyes, and the Sandman stands beside her beckoning to me to join them. I drift towards them, catching my foot on the loose part of my rug and tumbling down; I lay face down in my carpet and think, “I used to be a morning person.”