To Start Off

My eyes burn. I blink, and it feels like velcro. I hear no traffic, only the fan from my laptop. Back under the covers, I set my finished bowl of oatmeal beside me. Warm now.

The closed blinds shadow the room. Morning lands full force, breaking through the slits of the upward, tilted slats. It’s going to be beautiful outside.

I chat a little, with one of the most attractive friends I’m privileged to have. He’s not online much, and I thought it would be fun to say hi. I smirk.

The resident finch’s chirps fill the silence; I now hear a lawn mower waking up, too.

My body doesn’t want more sleep.  My eyelids are still viscous, sticky.

Reluctantly, my pajamas come off, and the morning chill braces my legs, my arms, my stomach.

Hastily: Jeans, t-shirt, hoodie.

It’s time for more oatmeal.

I take a deep breath. Fresh air expands my lungs.

I open the blinds. Sunlight swells my room and strikes through my still viscous, sticky eyelids.

A smile automatically raises my cheeks, as smoothly as ever.

I almost don’t notice.

A little discussion.

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