1: Chill

108 3 5
                                    

He tiptoed as quietly as he could through the hall, not intent on disturbing even the soft carpet beneath his bare feet. Blake reached the kitchen before long, still quietly creeping on the smooth linoleum. He reached the fridge and opened it; the bag lunch he'd made the night before sat on one of the shelves. He pulled it out and made his way to the nearby kitchen table where a black backpack sat. Blake unzipped a pocket and set the lunchbox inside, then opened the larger pocket and checked the contents within.

Civil War notes, check. Health notes....crap, I forget to read that Mockingbird chapter.

But Blake shook his head; there wasn't time to worry about that. The door adjacent to the kitchen table practically screamed his name already. As did the shoes and socks sitting before him. He leaned down and put on the garments before reaching for the door and his pack.

Oh crap. Almost forgot.

He left the door and pack, and tiptoed back again down the hall. He reached the entrance to a room at the end and on the left, and very carefully pushed open the door. Blake heard a tiny creak but ignored it and opened the door halfway.

The room was dark, but the small bit of light behind him allowed a brief glimpse into the dim space. A woman lay on a bed, covered by gray bed sheets but no comforter. And she looked deep in slumber.

Blake turned his attention to the nightstand beside the bed. He spotted an alarm clock, a glass half-filled with water, and two little white pills, the latter of which Blake remembered setting there the night before. He frowned and looked back at the door, where his gaze fell downward. There was a sticky note, which he picked up and stuck back onto the door.

The note read, 'Don't forget your medicine this morning'.

He closed the door most the way and tiptoed back down the hall. After throwing his backpack over his shoulders, he gently twisted the knob and departed.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, Blake breathed in the soft morning air. Even for the early hours in May there was a slight breeze that tickled his face, and enough sunlight to easily burn away the light fog covering the ground. Blake set his hands in his pockets and walked down the sidewalk through his front yard.

"Hey you!"

Blake looked up before he heard the greeting. A girl his age, about thirteen years old, stood at the end of the pathway, carrying a backpack of her own. She had dark brown hair that stretched just past her shoulders and matching eyes that stared him down with a bright friendliness all their own.

"Hey, June," he greeted in response.

"You were..." The girl paused and momentarily eyed an old watch on her left wrist. "Twenty-four seconds later than me."

"And you're weird."

June just laughed at the remark. Blake joined her and together they made their way down the sidewalk.

"You're usually out earlier than me," she mused aloud. "Everything okay?"

He set a hand on the back of his hand. "I sorta forgot to check Mom's meds right away. No big deal."

June's wide eyes conveyed her surprise. "Whenever she doesn't feel great, that's always the first thing you check in the morning isn't it? Maybe I should be asking how you're doing."

"I haven't gotten a lot of sleep lately is all." Of course she would worry. The two of them were neighbors, close friends, after all. Still, he didn't want her concerning herself too much with his well-being.

"Have you tried, what's that stuff Dad mentions? Melatone?"

Blake raised an eyebrow as he stared at June. "Come again?"

AwakeningWhere stories live. Discover now