Morning

She rose after she had fallen asleep one last time. A morning shaft of sunlight through the slats in the wood blinds hit her square in the eye. She knew it was no use staying in bed. She filled the cream-colored basin with cool water, pulling handfuls up to her endearing face. It was refreshing as sleepy cobwebs vanished from her calm brown eyes. Cupping more water in her small hands, she let it waterfall down her neck and onto her fawning chest. Toweling off and feeling a quiver of goosebumps she decided to grab a flannel shirt from the walk in closet. Buttoning it with nothing underneath she slipped into her jeans that were hanging over a chair. She didn’t tuck in the over-sized shirt, rolling up the sleeves half way. The warmth of the quilt shirt felt so welcome against her light soft skin. There was a dash of the first blush of the day in her cheeks. She ran her fingers through her hair instead of combing and fastened it in back with a silver pin - a pin once belonging to her Grandmother.

She was hungry but settled for two slivers of dry toast and a mug of juice. She was anxious to get back to reading the manuscript left on the kitchen table late into the after hours, reviewing barely legible sideways scribbles in the margins. Starting a pot of coffee she settled down in the only chair in the spotlight of the warm early rays of the sun streaming in the window above the kitchen sink. Nibbling the warm toast and pulling back the black cover of the raw script she continued where her eyelids became heavy a few hours before. She was pleased with the story - hidden passageways to ancient long lost libraries - whispering some of the lines over and over again. She was glad to be ready at long last to get published. As she read it she alternated between smiling, shivering, and thanking her lucky stars imagining she'd soon be far away in country quiet, distant from that annoying crashing of trash collection in the street below.

Now she was hungrier. Reaching into the fridge she grabbed a small container of cottage cheese, and reaching up in the cupboard she brought down a can of peaches to pour over it. Her cell phone vibrated. It was Phil.
“What are you doing today?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she fibbed. There was much to do.
“Let’s spend the afternoon together, ok?”
“Ok.”
They both said I love you after talking forty-two minutes.

When they were done talking she wanted to hurry and finish re-writing so she could begin the final draft. She no longer felt like a swirling current was pulling her under. Her life was buoyant again. That's what she was thinking now - she was no longer adrift. Entering the closet, imagining it was a hidden passageway, she stood for a awhile deciding what to wear for him.

artwork: Yesterdays Dreams
by Jack Vettriano