Tasse de café fumante avec quelques grains de café à côté

The Morning

I have been wanting to post something in English for a while. It has been a long time… So I’m gonna take a shot and tell the story of a typical day in a different voice, my medium being fiction in English.

BOOM ! Double challenged, double accepted !

The Morning

The bip went on.

And on.

And on.

To him, it was not exactly the sound of angels singing in your ears. This bip. This awful sound, only Satan and an army of fiends could have imagined.

The sound of the alarm… Every goddamn morning, it burned the inside of his ears, slipping into his brain only to make his waking up a nightmare.

« I hate you so much, goddamn clock« , he muttered.

It was Tuesday. It was 7 AM. He had to get up.

« Fuck…four days to go« , he said, emerging from his bed.

He opened the blanket, lied down a moment like that, naked, arms crossed, waiting for his brain to fully reboot. He always thought the brain was some sort of computer. It has to be awaken gently, given time to boot properly or else, your day’s gonna be a basket full of shit.

He finally got up and went to the bathroom.

It was just a few steps away, but, every goddamn morning it felt like he had to walk for an hour to take a fucking shower. He had to get out of the bed, take a few steps to skirt it, bump into the wooden safe she had put at the bottom of the bed a few months ago and that his goddamn brain had not still recorded yet, swear a lot in his head and a little bit out loud, walk again three or four steps, trip over the wire of the iron, swear again, finally get out of the bedroom, walk two more steps, turn left and finally enter the bathroom.

It was hell. Every goddamn morning he lived the same hell. And he hated it.

« Oh fuck, I hate mornings« , he said, turning the water on and waiting for it to warm.

10 minutes had passed since he got out of bed.

He got out of the shower, a little bit more awake than five minutes before, took a towel, dried. He put his clothes on and looked at his face in the mirror.

« I look like shit…« , he thought, and went down the stairs to have his morning pint of coffee.

She was still asleep, or at least she pretended she was. She hated the fact that he was so grumpy in the morning so much, that she’d rather let him get up and process the whole thing by himself than risking to be the target of his morning hostility and grunts.

He poured himself a huge mug.

He liked his coffee black and strong. No sugar. No milk. Only pure warmth and pure bitterness. A shot of god’s blood straight in the veins. The coffee was the only thing that helped him getting his head out of his ass. And god knew that if someone would have been bold enough to talk to him before he had his coffee, he would have had to face the wrath of a thousand beasts. Or something approaching that looked like him very angry, eyes half closed, frowning and grunting.

7:30 AM.

Half an hour left before leaving for work.

He liked to take his time in the morning. He knew himself well enough to know that, he may be suffering a lot when getting up but he’d rather have time left to wake up gently than having to be up and ready in five minutes. That’s what she did in the morning, and he never understood how she managed to live like that.

« Think about it« , she would say, « you get to sleep longer ! It’s better ! You should try ! » But he could never understand. To him, getting up and being ready in five minutes happened only when you were late and only resulted in you being panicked and close to a heart attack.

No fucking way.

He finished his coffee.

He was feeling better now. His brain cells were almost all awaken. The connexions started to work. The anger started to fade away. He could soon be off to work.

One thing left, though.

His routine.The one thing he did every day before leaving the house. The only thing he physically had to do. He couldn’t imagine not doing it and spending the whole day at work thinking about it and not being able to do it.

If he didn’t poop in the morning, his entire day was ruined.

He was not an « office pooper ». Some of his colleagues were and he was quite envious of them. Feeling so good at work that you could loosen to take a shit. But he was not like that.

He took his Game Boy, checked if the Tetris cartridge was still in there, turned it on and entered the toilets.

Generally, he had the time to go to level 15.

7:45 AM.

He had to leave in 15 minutes.

She got out of bed and directly jumped into the shower. Her clothes were ready from the night before. She did it every night before going to bed. She chose her next day shirt, pants, underwear, everything, and put them in the bathroom, on her side of the sink, waiting for her the next morning. It took her five minutes before sleeping and she was able to sleep 15 minutes more by doing so. She was so proud of her way to deal with mornings. She tried so many times to « convert » him to her routine but he was a lost cause.

He hated mornings  and needed time to accept them every day and she was a well-organized morning person. They would never agree on that point.

She showered, dried, brushed her teeth and put her clothes on in less than 10 minutes. She checked herself in the mirror, neatened her make up.

« Bitch, I’m fabulous« , she said.

It was her mantra. It made her laugh and feel confident at the same time. She had no idea why, but it made her feel sparkly and she liked that.

As she got out of the bathroom, he went in to brush his teeth.

« Morning sweetie« , he said, kissing her on the forehead.

« Hi, love« , she said, « Do I wait for you to go or, you’ll close the door ? »

« No, wait for me, I’m just brushing my teeth and I’m leaving« , he answered.

She drank her cup of coffee, she would eat something at work, she always had something in her drawer.

8:00 AM.

He finally got out of the bathroom and down the stairs. He looked handsome in his work clothes. She’d always liked the fact that he had to wear a uniform but didn’t have to risk his life everyday. The joy of working the IT in the army.

They put on their shoes, gathered their stuff, put on their coats and got out of the house.

« You have your keys ? » she asked,

« You have yours ? » he answered.

She smiled. He smiled.

They kissed.

« Have a nice day, hon’« , he said.

« You too, love« , she said.

2 commentaires pour “The Morning

  1. J’écris pas en anglais, mon voisin fait des travaux et je ne sais pas si écrire dans une autre langue sans la pleine attention de mon cerveau est une bonne idée.
    Juste pour te dire que j’ai beaucoup aimé. A la fois drôle et attendrissant.
    (et je comprends pour la poop part)

    1. « Everything comes down to poop » comme chantaient une bande de docteurs dans Scrubs ! 😉 Merci ma chatte. Je m’essaye pas souvent à cet exercice, je prends ton appréciation pour un encouragement. 🙂

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