Before the creep of dawn, when night still caresses the windowpane, the chilly sea of wakefulness laps at my pillow’s edge.
I lie twisting under the duvet, my feet smoothing chasm-like creases and acres of gritty sand from the surface of the bottom sheet.
I close my eyes and blot out the myopically blurred room, flooded in its chalky dust of indistinct greys.
Breathe deeply. Tense toes. Relax.
His and hers alarm clocks echo in uneven ticks.
Feel my ankles push into the surface of the bed.
Breathe deeply. Tense legs. Relax.
A horse neighs in the field beyond the garden. Or was that a whinny? What’s the difference?
Work up my spine. Let my shoulders sag limply.
Breathe deeply. Tense neck. Relax.
Listen with jealousy to the gentle puffed snores beside me.
A train in the distance hooks my thoughts. Life scurries on. Freight is carried.
Breathe in, breathe out. Try and melt into the darkness.
Silently accuse the clocks of getting louder.