Desert

Untitled Part 3

In the haze of ochre dust there is no dawn or dusk, no sun or moon, no daybreak or nightfall. Time has lost all meaning to you beyond how long it takes for your water to boil.

None the less you watch the clock on the wall slowly ticking away. You know there is no way it is properly calibrated. The sands of time have worn it down. It could be off by just a few seconds, or by hours. You would never know.

You know that you need to rest. You follow the hands around the face, watching as it hits 3:47. AM and PM are a foreign, or forgotten, concept to you. You decide this is as good a time as any to sleep.

Your bedroom is a quaint thing, at the heart of your home. The lack of windows lets you hide from reality. It's also the safest room in the house, although that's not saying much.

It's a wonder really, that the house has stood this long. How long, you don't know. You know it was here before you. You have made some repairs over the years. Replaced the shingles, upgraded the air conditioner units, dusted off the solar panels. But everything you do is quickly enveloped in dust.

You switch off the lamp that sits on your bedside table and climb beneath the covers. The duvet, older than you surely, swallows you in its folds of once-intricate tapestry. It, like everything else, has been well-used and worn down in manner. You don't remember the woven stories between the threads.

You feel alone, this bed is too large for you. What once felt so comforting and warm is now so cold, so distant. You're missing something. You just don't know what.

You toss and turn throughout the night, thoughts blowing through your head quicker than you can think. How can there be so much to think about in such an empty place?

You don't remember when you fell asleep.