sidneyeileen

The Morning Commute It's a strange thing how thoughts and perceptions of hours and days blur into each other when regular sleep is elusive.  Each day began pretty much the same.  I would wake to my cell phone's alarm and climb out of bed in an automatic motion independent of conscious thought.  My roommate, sleeping in the bunk below me, might have rolled over in response, but I never noticed.  In the night light of the bathroom, I used a pony-tail holder to restrain the strip of foot-long hair which ran from my forehead to the nape of my neck. I don't remember getting dressed, but I must have done so before slipping on my boots and lacin