The following is a work of fiction.
As if they knew my greatest foil, tiny electrons inside my phone conspired to wipe an hour from my day. Daylight Savings lead to sixty minutes I did not live, yet I suffered their existence nonetheless. Three-thousand six-hundred seconds too soon, the familiar and grating sound of Alexa’s morning routine jarred me from my slumber.
“Alexa, Stop,” I muttered, with eyes open just enough to confirm the terrible news delivered from my bedside assistant. It was, indeed, time to get up.
With that command, every light exploded to life, blasting me with radiation that seemed to pierce cleanly through my eyelids. Can I go back to sleep for just a few minutes? No, I couldn’t. Five minutes had already elapsed since I initially dismissed Alexa. I had less than fifteen minutes left to before I had to leave for work.
“Alexa, what’s the temperature outside?” I asked, trying to decide if I needed to warm up my truck and what size coat I should wear.
“Outside doesn’t support that,” Alexa replied, mockingly.
I let out an audible sigh and rephrased, “Alexa, what’s the weather today?”
“Today, it is…” Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pass in and out of consciousness one last time before finally hearing the answer to my question. “…currently 54 degrees with a high of 54 degrees.”
“Typical Missouri bullshit,” I said, though no one was there to hear my pre-dawn curse.
Feeling even more exhausted than I did when I went to bed, I rolled out the door just on time. The cold morning air seemed to cut right through the light jacket I had chosen like a steel knife. At least this sharp sensation improved my wakefulness.
One, two, three cups of coffee later I could still feel the heaviness of my eyelids. They constantly taunted me, saying “close me, for just a second”. For a moment I obliged, telling myself I needed a moment for deeper concentration. The relaxation of the muscles supporting my head caused the sensation of falling that jolted me back to consciousness. Disoriented from this momentary lapse, I looked back to my computer screen for clues to remind me what I was working on. So much for deeper concentration.
The day crept by in this fashion; a sinusoidal fluctuation between productivity and otiosity. It was a miserable existence. Finally, it was time to go home. Perhaps a late-afternoon nap was in order? I climbed back into my car for the trip home. This time, the cabin was warm from the afternoon sun. The air laid over me like a soft blanket. I felt the heaviness slowly increase again on my eyelids. They drifted down, lower and lower.
Then, they closed.
The blare of the car horn from my forehead on the steering wheel brought me back to attention. Luckily, the car was still in park. I took a few seconds to regain my bearings before putting the car in gear and heading down the road.
Sunbeams danced in through the windows and across my cheeks. It was right at that temperature where on the sunny side it was rich and warm, but the opposite side begged for the work of the heater. Notes floated from the keys of Taylor Swift’s piano and out of my speakers before finding home inside my head, supplanting any persistent thoughts from my day at work. I was starting to feel better; now all I needed was that nap!
The truck seemed to teleport into my lane at the exact moment it should have passed me by.
For a brief moment, I opened my eyes to see the sun filtering through the smoke and twisted steel. The smells of spring were overpowered by exploded air bags, gasoline, and radiator fluid. I couldn’t tell the ringing in my ears from the horns that were constantly sounding.
I felt the heaviness slowly increase again on my eyelids. They drifted down, lower and lower.
Then, they closed.
