Lying, as spread-eagled as possible, on the narrow bed.
Multi-pitched warbling of birds, shrill droning of insects and a sudden groan and roar of a bus’s engines… And a rhythmic but almost silent beeping from a distant, unattended alarm.
Eyes gummed shut with a night’s worth of the sandman’s handiwork, till it makes a disgustingly audible sound as I blink back consciousness.
Skin, cold and numb but radiatingly warm in my core. Throat, sandpaper; head, pulsating like a bowling alley’s strikes.
I scratch up a checklist from my fragmented mind:
emails
emails,
emails and delegation
and tutorials and sit-in labs
And medication.
‘Bonetrousle’ creeps from my phone, placed a metre away, both measures by my 11pm self to ensure that my 7am self can get up; I hate him and thank him as I always do.
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