Infinite possibilities

A garish beach track mixed with an infurating digital voice that screams 'Its time to wake up' 'Its time to wake up' breaks the morning air.
I hit the snooze.
Silence.
There can never be a pleasant alarm clock sound. Ever.

The proverbial tomorrow is dawning over a yesterday hangover. I can feel yesterday still pulsing in my head. It can’t be time yet – it just can’t.

In inalterable regularity, almost merciless - the digital display mutely blinks, morphs into the next number – instantly the alarm scream rents the air again. 'Its time to...' - a trained slap shuts it up mid-shriek.

Slience.
The held breath turns to a sigh - muscles relax, the air stills - Deep hush.

I could be the only one alive on earth right now –
The bed is warm. The 7 am sun is streaking all over the curtains where last night's headlight patterns faded on and off – in the drowsy irregularity of nighttime traffic. A page lazily lifts on the half read book beside me and falls back again. A spider makes a slick move on the ceiling.

To be alive – alone, without a thought or need, lightly treading the boundaries of the harsh world of waking up, its time to hover, lithly, in that No man’s land of a misty in-between.

This morning floating feeling - its the 15 minutes of my life I’d kill for. It’s the only thing in the world that truly belongs to me - these lazy, unaccounted minutes of floating - to be random, delusional, unattached. To be free.

15 minutes of chasing cars.