Five

Chapter 1

Prologue

I shake like a leaf in a state of perpetual faux-autumn when I know. Never falling, just forced to remain in that constant limbo, being denied the reprieve of finally hitting the ground, something of which I know is going to happen. Why prolong it? If it is going to happen, why stretch out the situation, diluting it, watering it down. Is it to soften the blow? The ground is full of thousands of leaves, making it soft and plush-like. Meaning the fall...won't be that scary. It won't be this bad thing. I've found it easy to compare myself to these inanimate objects, such as leaves. But are they really inanimate? The definition of inanimate is simple.

"Showing no sign of life; lifeless."

When in fact leaves are very much alive. Leaves breathe in and out; taking in a life force of no use to us and exhaling one that is. So why is it when leaves fall and collect in their piles of colorful families, do we admire their beauty even more but for a shorter period of time before we sweep them up and put them in plastic trash bags. The trash bags are disposed of, contributing to the overflowing landfills and pollution we complain about. We give nothing back. We just take. And then we somehow gather the nerve to be surprised when something is in turn, taken away from us.

Chapter 1

The air smells of dark roast and apple-wood smoked bacon as I wake. I never remember my dreams, but I feel that I had one, maybe more. I hate the feeling of uncertainty; it's even more unsettling when I'm uncertain of my own mind and what goes on in it when I'm the most vulnerable. In sleep is when our guard is completely down. I sit up and toss off my 800 thread-count sheets that smell so good. I notice the air surrounding me is much colder once the sheets come off of me. The combination of breakfast and freshly washed sheets give me enough of an incentive to get out of bed and see what awaits me today.

My legs crack from being locked in the same position all night. My feet touch the cold wood floor, and I immediately look for my slippers before anything else. I find them and put them on. My phone buzzes and rings a default ringtone that came with it. "Alarm:7:30" Today marks the third day in a row that I've woken up before my alarm. About five minutes before. The light shinging through the window warms my skin. From the outside looking in, I wonder what I look like.

I look to my right where my nightstand is. I pull the drawer open and see my journal and pencil are where I left them. Where I always leave them. A silly reassurance, I know, because I put them there when I'm done with them every night. It's just nice to know and be sure of something, perpetually, without fail, every time. I close the drawer and open my door that is never closed all the way, just closed enough to keep the light from coming in at night. Even with my making my presence known by living in this house, the dog still barks and it doesn't startle me, but I hate it. I just glare at the dog, daring her to look away really. When she doesn't, I get even more frustrated and it's not even 8 o'clock yet.

"Oh, stop it," I hiss. It's the little things that get me. Clearly I am above you, dog. Act like it. The floor creaks beneath my feet while I make my way downstairs. I could memorize the week spots in the floor if I wanted to. It would be easy, I think. When I'm in the kitchen, I go to the cabinet and grab a plate. All of the dishes we own are glass and it is a pain. I despise doing dishes, but plastic everything would be tacky. If only there were some sort of rational middle ground.

"Morning, sweetie," Caz kisses me on the cheek.

"Thanks for the breakfast. Smells amazing." I say. If we're being honest, the breakfast is probably to blame for getting me to wake up, especially this early on a Saturday morning, but I won't tell her that. "Glad you think so, dear," she replies, stirring her coffee. Caz looks at me over the rim of her steaming mug, then looks back into the black liquid as she takes a sip. I know what that look means; I know what they all mean. I spare her the lecture or vague questions that will surely ensue, and make me upset and possibly ruin this good morning.