Shadows of Self
by
Shannon L. Arrant
The shrill beeping sounds of the alarm clock filled my otherwise quiet room. The chimes started softly at first before building into a cacophonous crescendo of irritation. When I bought the alarm clock, the box said that the steady increase in volume would "gently wake you, leaving you more rested, energized, and ready to face the day." Yeah, right. I'm sure there are laws against false advertising somewhere. Unfortunately, the constant screeching of the torturous machine interrupted my happy daydream of a class action lawsuit against the sadist who created that damned alarm clock.
"Alright, alright." I grumbled as I slammed a hand down on the off button. Finally, blessed silence filled my room. I briefly thought about just closing my eyes and going back to sleep but decided against it when I caught a glimpse of the time. If I didn't get up now, I'd be late.
"Another day, another dollar." I mumbled to no one in particular as I threw off the covers and sat up on the edge of the bed. The once plush carpeting of my bedroom felt flat under my feet as I slowly stood. Nothing like thirty year old shag carpeting trampled down to near nothingness through the years. It's probably never seen a steam cleaner, either. Oh well. At least the rent on my apartment is cheap
I rubbed my face as I plodded across the carpet to the bathroom. A yawn and a stretch began my morning ritual. The added oxygen began to flow through my blood, rushing through the various parts of my body, but left me feeling only slightly more awake. I turned on the tap to the cold water deciding to let it run until it was nice and icy. I leaned against the chilled porcelain of the sink and hazarded a glance into the mirror on the wall while I waited.
I carefully studied my reflection in the mirror with a soft frown. Did I need to shave the baby porcupine spines growing on my face just yet or could it wait another day? I reached a hand up to rub over my chin, scrutinizing how I looked in the mirror. My blue eyes looked tired. No great surprise considering how much I tossed and turned last night. With a sigh, I shook my head, causing a wavy lock of sandy blonde hair to fall into my eyes. I ran my hand through my hair in an attempt to push it back into place.
My eyes widened with a start. I leaned forward, my hand still holding back my unruly lock of hair. Was that a scar running near my temple, at my eyebrow? My face seemed thinner somehow... like... No, it couldn't be. I had to be more tired than I thought.
With another shake of my head, I reached my hands into the now frigid water and splashed my face. Suddenly wide awake, I grabbed the limp cotton rag that was more scrubber than towel that hung from the rod next to the sink. As I rubbed the coarse fabric over my face to dry it, I glanced at my reflection again. Yup, it must have been just a trick of the light on a weary mind. Everything looked normal. Giving myself one of my patented devil-may-care smirks, I tossed the towel aside and slipped back into my room to get dressed.
*******
I grabbed my worn jacket from the plastic hanger on the door to my bedroom as I started towards the front door to my apartment. The brown leather was broken in; creased with time and many hours wear. Like an old friend, I let the jacket wraps its warmth around me as I slipped my arms into the sleeves. Now, all I needed were my keys and I would be set.
A quick pat down of my pockets told me they weren't to be found there. I quickly glanced around my sparsely furnished living room. The throwback striped couch from the 70s, the mismatched coffee and end tables... Nope, my keys wouldn't there, either. Finally, my eyes settled on the tiny desk next to the front door. Aha, there they were. I managed to drop them into the bowl they belonged in for once.
