Wake-Up Call
In this early morning darkness silence rules all. The squirrels, owls and raccoons are all asleep, done with their nightly fun. Streetlights provide sickly shallow pools of light, an occasional passing car floods yards, turning bushes and trees into dancing demon-like shadows. Trash cans sit on the curb, set there the night before, waiting for their contents to be eagerly claimed, only to be filled again. The scent of rain lingers in the air, giving the world a laundry-fresh smell. Tiny droplets of moisture cling to every blade of grass in perfectly manicured lawns; some have even managed to cling precariously to the vinyl siding of the houses. In two silent rows they line the street, all the same, only the color of the siding changing from one to the next.
At the end of the street one house sits at the corner, silent and dark as the rest. From the light of a nearby streetlight the white siding and black shutters can be made out with only a minimum of difficulty. Wrought-iron numbers, 167, have been attached next to the door, and they gleam in the orange light, casting small crooked shadows below them. No one is awake; the rooms are dark and empty. In the kitchen a small beep sounds, a red light shines in the darkness, accompanied by a soft gurgling, as the electric coffee pot turns on automatically. An erratic thermostat kicks in, adding its noise, circulating cool air throughout the rooms. In moments the gentle breeze carries the warm smell of freshly brewed coffee upstairs; softly lulling one of the house's sleeping occupants awake.
The small snores that fill the bedroom gradually quiet. In the king-sized bed Daniel shifts, switching from lying on his back to curled on his side. Blue eyes open, glance at the small clock on the dresser, the red numbers glaring insistence reflect in this sleep-glazed irises. With a sigh his eyes slide closed. Next to him lies his girlfriend of four years, unaware of the world, locked in peaceful slumber. Her fire-red hair is strewn around on her pillow, and one of his hands plays gently with her locks, twirling strands around his fingers. One of her hands shields her eyes; the fingers of the other are twined with his. A sheet is pulled up to her waist, exposing the soft skin of her belly, her shirt pulled up ever-so-slightly, covering only the bare minimum. In sleep she abandons the stress of daily life; the small lines around her eyes and mouth sooth out, giving her a peaceful appearance.
Again his eyes open, more slowly this time, and he carefully levers himself up, resting on his elbow, looking down at her. He leans down, his lips grazing her nose, until his stubble coated cheek comes to rest on her smooth one. "It's time for you to go." He says, drawing her from her repose. Her eyelids flutter open in response, revealing eyes as gray as storm clouds. The alarm clock on the dresser begins to buzz, irritated at being up so early, finishing the job Daniel started. Jennifer groans, making it no secret that she would much rather spend her day here than get up and go anywhere.
For a few minutes she considers what her day will be like. She will shower, get ready to leave, grab a travel mug of coffee on her way out. Traffic jams and red lights will abound as she makes her way to the office, she will probably spill her coffee at least once before she arrives. She will be late, and have to sneak in by the back door, praying her boss does not see her; she can't afford to be late again. Hours and hours will be spent behind a desk, trapped in the world of word processors. The monotony of this will be broken only by infrequent visits to the water cooler and the bathroom. At the end of this horrendously long day she will get back into her small piece of crap car, sit in traffic for a few more hours, hoping that no important parts of her car fall off as she goes. She will be invariably late for dinner; it will be cold on a plate in an empty dining room. When she is done she will trudge back upstairs, and fall asleep only to repeat it again the next day. The money she earns will sit in a bank account, never being spent; there is no time to spend it. Jennifer considers her life. 'I work to live, and now I live to work.' She thinks as she rolls onto her back.
Then, as the weight of her life threatens to overtake her, a hand settles on her hip, she is pulled into Daniel's warm embrace. His lips are warm, pressing hard against her forehead, assuring her that all will be well. For a few long moments both are lost in each other's arms, and then she pulls away. In his eyes is the promise that when the day is done he will be waiting for her, waiting to lift the world away, to make her forget that she'll have to continue this droll cycle tomorrow. With a smile and a thank you in her eyes, she rolls out of bed to get ready for her day; Daniel smiles at her back as she goes about her routine.