Awakening

    The peach stained walls melt away the dusty dark with the suns stretching rays.  She opens her crusted eyes , blinking once, twice, as many times as it takes for her tired eyes to adjust.  The look on her face suggest she is comfortable in her bed, but the gaging expression tells that she is figuring the worth of leaving her safe warm cocoon to go pee, or if she should just lay here forever, or five minutes of it at least.  Thoughts and lists of images flash through her head, like a computer booting up for a very long day, a movie picture of what she has to do today.  Sighing deeply, she throws off off her covers, shuddering at the cold morning breath that assaults her toasty flesh.
    Shuffling to the WC, she thinks.  In her own head she can think, in her own head she is conscience of herself, she needs no one else to tell her if she got done this right or did this wrong.  She likes it in her head, with only thoughts and paths to choose on how she gets from A-Z without loosing her mind in the process.  The outside world doesn't fit in with the jigsaw pieces her mind cuts out for her; making it hard to put the pieces together sometimes.  Staring at her toothpaste stained reflection, she knows what she has to do.  Crawling back to the comfort of her futon mattress, she closes her eyes, bargaining for five more minutes of unconsciousness.

Golden Mornings