Grooving to Life's Beat

The Way I Am: Torn Between Worlds

I stumbled out of bed, the darkness swallowing the room, making every step feel like a miscalculated risk. My feet tangled in the sheets, nearly sending me crashing to the floor. I caught myself, barely, and made my way to the kitchen, feeling as though I was still half-stuck in the strange dream I'd just had.

The kitchen felt a mile away, but I finally grabbed a glass, filled it with water, and gulped it down in one breath. Cold, sharp, and shocking, the water did little to erase the lingering tension from the dream. My dad, standing alone in a barren field under a stormy sky, calling out to me, his face lined with worry. I had tried to run toward him, but it was like wading through thick mud—each step harder than the last.

I set the empty glass on the counter, trying to shake the eerie feeling.

And then, a knock on the door.

I froze, my heart leaping into my throat. Who the hell would be knocking at this hour?

The clock on the microwave blinked 5:00 AM in harsh neon green, reminding me that it was way too early—or late, depending on your perspective—for visitors. I peeked through the viewfinder, my breath catching as I saw who it was.

Marshall.

I hesitated, fumbling with the locks, and pulled the door open. "Marshall? What are you doing here?"

He stood there, his normally sharp, focused eyes glazed over, his cap turned backward. He looked... rough. Exhausted. "Hey." He mumbled the word like it was the most casual thing in the world. His eyes squinted slightly, as if the dim hallway light was too much for him.

My brows furrowed in confusion. "Are you... okay?"

"Yeah," he said, dragging the word out, fumbling with a yellow package of M&M's. "Want some?"

I blinked, completely baffled by the situation. "Marshall, it's five in the morning. No, I don't want M&M's. What's going on?"

He shrugged, seemingly oblivious to the absurdity of it all. "Thought I'd come say hi." He ripped open the candy bag, spilling M&M's onto the floor. "Oops."

I sighed, opening the door wider. "Come in."

Marshall shuffled past me into the living room, collapsing onto the couch as if he belonged here. He tossed his sneakers off lazily, kicked his feet up on the coffee table, and started flipping through TV channels, as if crashing at my place at five in the morning was the most natural thing in the world. Meanwhile, I stood there, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Marshall Mathers was sitting in my apartment, uninvited, at five in the morning.

"What are you even doing?" I asked, half-laughing, half-exasperated, as I tried to make sense of the surreal situation.

"Just checking if there's anything good on TV." He shrugged, settling on a sports channel, then turned to me with that infamous smirk. "Got to stay updated, you know?"

"At five in the morning?"

He grinned. "Never a bad time for sports highlights."

"Marshall, you're crazy!"  I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

He leaned back on the sofa, his expression amused and his tone a little cocky. "Yeah... I know!" he said, flashing that boyish grin and for a few moments, he just looked at me, his eyes filled with an intensity that made my pulse quicken.

Silence stretched between us, but not the uncomfortable kind. It felt strange, being here with him, without the usual bravado or sarcasm between us. His tired eyes flicked to me again, lingering for a second longer than I was used to.