BEB #18: my day, narrated through my headphones

by Ciara Hockey

I open my eyes. Sun streams through the shutters and the wind kisses me good morning through the window I forgot to shut last night. It’s too early to talk or think or do anything but watch the trees.

I’m waking up. I roll over and stretch. It feels like my body has been crumpled into a tiny ball for days. I am a ball of yarn and I begin to u n r a v e l .

I stand in front of the bathroom sink. I splash water on my face and my eyes begin to sting. I don't care. I dance anyway.

I put my feet inmysocksinmyshoesontheflooroutthedoordownthestreet. I am already halfway to class when I realize I forgot my book. I keep walking.

I sit and listen and obey. My gaze drifts away from the paper and with it my focus. I embrace it. Sometimes things don’t make sense.

I push through the doors and I’m free. My head is still spinning with themeformsyntaxtonestyle. I relax my shoulders and release the tension that threatens to spill into speech.

I heave my bag from side to side. I’m close enough that I can see the roof but not close enough to see the pattern on Annie’s fluttering curtains.

I fall into bed in the same way that I got up. Stumblingreachingwanting. My pillows hug me and welcome me back. I missed them just as much.

I close my eyes. Velvet darkness soothes the dull throbbing in my temples. I forget to shut the window again. I’ll see the sun in the morning.