It is a weekday. I am in a sleeping position with a blanket covering me from my toes up to my neck. My eyes are closed, my breathing moderate. The red alarm clock on the bedside table goes off, indicating that the time is now 7 o'clock in the morning. I groan in response. I reach out and grope for the clock. In my rashness, my hand knocks it off of the table and it lands on the carpeted floor with a thud, effectively silencing it. I take some time to contemplate whether it is worth getting out of bed today. My eyes are forced open, blinking in the sunlight spilling in through the blinds. It is too bright for my eyes. I kick the blanket off myself and sit up on the bed. The sunlight hits my skin. Pleasant, warm. I finally gain enough internal motivation to get up from bed.
I stand on my feet and let out a yawn, limbs stretched out. Groggily, I make my way to the bathroom situated next to my bedroom. I drag my feet along the way. When in front of the door, I do not knock. Instead, the knob is twisted and I barge in. There is no one inside. I proceed to the sink to brush my teeth. I squeeze some toothpaste onto my toothbrush and start brushing. The cap of the toothpaste remains open even when I have finished. Next, I undress and step into the shower cubicle. Cold water descends from the shower head and soaks me. As a result, I yelp in surprise at the unwelcomed sensation. The water continues to run, and it gradually gets warmer. I bathe.
END OF LOG
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TX-2033-LEEKNIGHT-1004-AM
Short StoryA grief-stricken mother relives the final days of her troubled daughter while attempting to preserve and restore data from her memory logs. *** In the midst of her divorce proceedings with her estranged husband, Helen raises their troubled daughter...
