sicky angelo
Tiny flickering LEDs provide the only light in the darkened room. Lightly painting the walls in red. The house sleeps, quietly murmuring to itself as it shifts and creaks, attempting to find a comfortable position. Faint snoring, muffled by the closed door, can be heard by the only conscious occupant.Blankets wrapped tightly around his aching body. Tissue littering the floor next to his bed. Two swollen eyes attempt to make out the time. Squinting, and staring uselessly. Every bit of strength his weakened body can muster is used in the simple act of rolling over and stretching for the pair of glasses resting on the bedside bookcase. His eyes lazily adjust to the new found clarity and finally settle on the rows of red.
"3:00 a.m., that's just great" he mutters to himself, wondering if sleep will continue to evade him.
Feebly he replaces the glasses and settles back into the center of the bed. He's slept in this exact spot often for the last few months. On occasion reverting to 'his side' of the bed. Where he used to lay staring at her instead of the glaring red clock, but tonight there is no reassurance in her quiet beauty. Nearly whimpering, he works to rebuild his cocoon and yearn once again for rest. There he lays, silently hoping for sleep.
Again his eyes open. The red glow stinging the two slits where his eyes should be. This time the glasses feel too far away. His hand stretches out and retrieves his nemesis, quietly pulling him close.
"three O' five... dang."
Best thing about today
I'm at home...
sick.
*
posted by angelo @ 10:48 AM
2 Comments:
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I hope you feel better soon, friend. Thanks for inspiring me to contribute to my own blog.
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