Twenty three minutes past four in the morning. Pillow flipped. Hot side down. Knees pulled up to chest. Four twenty five. Dry mouth. Dry cough. Stretched out and rolled over. Eyes shut, hard. Rolled back, over. Four twenty five. Still.
Blankets kicked to the floor. Got up. Stomped to kitchen.
Ground beans. Slapped kettle on stove. Listened to the whine of the boiling water. Four thirty two. Coffee ready. Poured. Sugar stirred in. Four thirty eight. TV on. Channel changed. Changed. Changed. Changed. Four forty two. Coffee finished. Still dark.
Eyes snap open. Nine fifty three. Late for work, again.