[Writing Prompt] A person describes their uninteresting and mundane morning routine, but it sounds extremely exciting.
Not A Morning Person
The alarm blares in the shrouded darkness of my room, stabbing into my groggy mind like the tip of a rapier through a Jello mold. My hand springs into action, swiping ferociously at the top of the alarm clock, swatting and beating in search of the snooze button. Still the aching whine of the alarm sirens through the air, until at last I unleash a fearsome fisted blow onto its top, hitting all the buttons at once and silencing the mechanical nightmare.
I fall back asleep immediately.
Five minutes later, I am dragged unceremoniously out of sleep once again when the searing noise returns. This time I shoot up, ramrod straight, and unleash a frenzied blow onto the devices side, which silences for good and all.
My eyes are thick with sebum cement, and, as I rub lid free from lid, I spy the time. 8:06AM. I am not late.
My eyes freed from their mucosal prison I blink to gather my bearings, then swing my legs over the side of the bed and slowly, carefully, bring my bare, exposed feet into contact with the floor. I lower them, inch by precarious inch, my sense of dread building with each millimeter, certain calamity awaits when they finally touched down onto the tile…
Freezing! My bare foot pads recoil in abject discomfort, momentarily overcome by the tile floors extreme chill. I curse myself and my contrator for installing tile, in my bedroom of all places.
I take a brief second to get my bearings, my poor feet like ice cubes on the tile floor. Then I creak to standing, my knees cracking under the weight of my torso. Is today the day they give out? Today the day they buckle and bend outward, sending me plummeting to the cold tile like a corpse?
No, it isn’t. I stand there unhappily and consider my next move. Lay back down or take a step toward the bathroom. I look back at the clock, 8:07, time is passing inexorably as stand there. Choose! Sleep or step?! SLEEP OR STEP?!
I choose step. My right foot raises up unsteadily, and I regret my decision immediately. Step? Who did I think i was, Step. I should have chosen Sleep – I wasn’t ready to take a step. Hell, I could barely keep my eyes open.
But it was too late – my foot moved through the air, almost with a mind of its own – at first carried upwards, but now down, propelled by that fickle friend, fiercesome gravity, back to the icy floor. I braced for the chilly impact, hating myself for my choice, loathing the start of my journey to the bathroom and my toothbrush.
With a barely audible slap of flesh against tile my foot hit the ground. I cringed at the renewed cold, cursing my fate. Goddamn, I am not a morning person.
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