/lit/ - Literature

The heavenly light of the sweet morning sun gleamed through the curtains, illuminating the dusky room. My eyes fell weak to its photosensivity and I started to awake from an otherwise peaceful slumber. The tranquil and quiet setting of the room was broken abruptly by the cacophonous chime of the alarm-clock. It was 7 a.m, and through the digital screech I am reminded of the monotony of my life.

I have to get up, I have to wake up.

I drag the cover away from my warm body, and let my corporeal heat whither away into the atmosphere. I get out of the bed and make my way into the bathroom. I splash cold water on my calid face, today I have to be fresh.

Once I finished my hygiene routine I head downstairs. My body craves nutrients, I drag myself to the kitchen and I get a bowl. I have to have cereal, especially today.

The morning antics of today seemed to be more laboreous than ever. I am running late, time is ticking on, and I have somewhere to be. I grab that which is only essential and hastily make my way outside. I see the my bustop in the distance, hazed by the bitter morning freeze. Approaching it is my bus. It is Friday, I need to get this bus.

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