(Just as a note: The bits in italics are not spoken out loud as dialogues. They are the characters’ thoughts.)
Toss. Flip. Duck. Feel around for cover. Pull cover on face. Gasp. Pull cover off face. Squint.
The sun was streaming through the window, glinting directly onto her face. Miserly with her eye opening in the mornings, she squinted angrily at the sun, wishing it away. It shone back, refusing to relent.
S: Go away sun, don’t want you around today. Why do you have to be up so early?
Sighing grumpily, her eyes fell on him. Another sigh.
S: I’d even reminded you to draw the curtains before sleeping. You beautiful, annoying, moron.
She rolled onto her stomach, stretching one leg over his back, caging him, pulling closer.
S: Now I’m not going to be able to fall back to sleep, and my staff is going to have it from me. Because that’s how the food chain progresses. Fuck emotional expression, we have a hierarchical system here. Oh, wait a minute. What day is it? Is it Wednesday? Shit, do I have the case report ready for the client that came in last week? What was his name.. Jake.. Jacob? Jared? Gerard? Sigh. Gerard Butler. Gerard Butter. I could do with all three right now. Gerard Butler – my butler, who would walk in at this exact moment, drenched in butter. Or perhaps, and better still, make me some wonderful scrambled eggs doused in butter. Mmmm…
Phone beeps. “1 new Text Message: Cngratulatns! Ur d lucky winner dis week 4 r Jackpot $100,000…”
S: Why aren’t I this lucky when we’re playing Bingo at those family reunions? How much happier I’d be to win- shhh.. snap out of it. Right, where were we? Gerard Butler bathed in butter. Sigh. No. NO! BEFORE that. Right, the client’s name. Ah, KEVIN! Ow, tone it down, woman. A little too squeaky for this early in the morning. Strange, I could’ve sworn there was a “J” sound in his name. Anyhoo. Oh, right. The case report.
Alarm rings. She feels around the bed for the source of the annoying siren, but it takes her a few seconds. He opens his eyes, blinks a few times, and their eyes meet. He gives her a warm smile, at the exact second when her hand lands on the phone. 6:30 am. She aims for the dismiss button, sliding “snooze” out of habit. Another sigh. He reaches across, brushing the hair off her face, resting his hand on her shoulder.
H: How beautifully you sigh. Like even the air wants all the time it can get with you, grudgingly exiting your mouth. Not much like me, though. I’m good with exiting your mouth quick enough. Wanna see?
Sensing the mischief in his eyes, she tightens her grip across his back, holding him in place, eyes giving a look as if to say “not today”.
H: In the mood for games this morning, are we? Oh, the game last night. What a game. Entirely worth messing with my routine since the last four weeks…
He drifts off to sleep.
S: Okay, I’m going to have to leave home half an hour sooner to get the notes together. I’ll call Rita, get her to start off with the draft. Oh, I also need to pick up the laundry today. So I’ll get off from work, and pick up the stuff on the way back from Kick-boxing class. Is Wednesday Kick-boxing or Pilates? WHAT DAY IS IT?
Alarm rings again. She sees the time. 6:37 am. She goes for “dismiss” again. Hits “snooze” again. Sighs again. He wakes up again.
H: Oh, the kiss. As soon as I’m up.
He drifts back off to sleep.
S: How does the alarm ring at 6:37? What alarm snoozes for anything other than 5 or 10 minutes? This is how they fuck with you. They’ve got us all under their -WHAT DAY IS IT?!
Reaching for the phone again, she looks at the time. 6:39 am. Tuesday. Long sigh. He is roused from his sleep. She moves closer, as if to celebrate her relief over placing herself in the week. Little joys.
H: She’s definitely asking for it. Was I just dreaming? Can’t remember what it was. Probably the same as the only dream I ever have. And can never remember. Beautiful morning. Might go for a jog. But food first. No, kiss first. Feel like baked beans today.
S: Tuesday. Great. No need to leave early then. No case report. Err.. Excuse me? Yes case report. Its due tomorrow. And that means its Pilates today. Or is it Yoga on Tuesdays? REALLY need to be more attentive. Right, Tuesdays. So.. that’s baked beans, right? Right. Some redemption.
Both: “Baked beans for breakfast?”
I love how we think alike, they both thought, as their lips met.
Alarm rings. 6:43 am. Dismiss.
..or maybe not.