Anonymity

Chapter:1

A parched throat is what I first feel. Slowly blink an eyelid open. And then the other. See skin. Cannot make out the room. It's a bed alright. Sit up. There's a slight chill. Tug at the bedsheets. Search for a clock. Hope it isn't too early. See my handbag. Totter to it. Pull out the cell phone. 6:37. The comfort of no voice-mails and a hundred frantic missed calls. The bathroom door. The mirror. Swollen eyes. Find my clothes. Find water. Find the front door.

The early morning chill, strangely refreshing. Bury deeper in to the muffler. A tree-lined pavement. Don't recognize it. Walk to the lights. "oak lane". Search my mind. Turn back. Look at the house. A vague sigh for the memory that will eventually get lost. Wave down the taxi and ask for the train station. Cup the coffee a little tighter and stub that cigarette as I see the train pull in. Empty blue seats. Move away from the stain. Why aren't they plastic. The crowded hills roll away. The mist hangs. (like a chandelier?). The familiar city slowly pulls in.

Turn the key. Turn up the heat. Switch on the crackle in the TV. Change into thick pajamas. Put some milk in the microwave. Slide into the seat by the window and watch the world steadily speed up. Time to pick at it with short neat phrases.