top of page

Fortune


 

Vaulting out of bed, way before the alarm goes off, with cheery disposition, embracing each day as a perfect novel adventure, sending out inspiring ' Good morning' texts to all the contacts, admiring the warm glow of the sun in a pristine blue sky without even mug of coffee in hand, isn't my thing. In fact, I can bet my life that even vampires are more of morning people in comparison to me.


Sadly, since I began this new job, which requires for me to be at the office sharp 9 a.m, I have been unwillingly waking up at 6:30 in the morning for the past few months, a nightmare! Nope! A morningmare!!!


I suffer severe sleep inertia, affecting my hypothalamus's disapproval to wake up to the world. With supreme frustration, I stretch like a cat, to turn off the annoying beeping of the alarm. Emerging out from under the cozy warmth of the comforter is yet another herculean task I endeavor, groggily rubbing my eyes to forsake the residual slumber. I roll out pulling the comforter off me as if peeling the onion skin, and dangle my feet to seek the console of my fluffy slippers. As always, the floor greeted my toes with a cold, unwelcoming response egging me to curl up back.


Instead, I purposefully let my feet, in spite of the hard hearted chilly floor, try and find the slippers. By some means, the fluffy slippers almost always manage to get under the bed, forcing me to reach down and fetch them out. Moderately satisfied with the warmth they offered, I walked into the kitchen and started the coffee machine. I made my way back into the bedroom a little more assured of being awake, and attempted to pick out an outfit that required the least effort to iron out. Thank heavens, it was a Friday, meaning, I don't have to dress up in a formal attire. If you ask me, I find it completely unnecessary, just to go and sit at a desk all day long, in formal clothes.


I settled upon a black pencil skirt and a beige silk blouse which was the least wrinkled. Feeling pleased with the swift choice of outfit, which usually took up a good ten minutes, I headed to the shower.


Showers for me are the most singularly peerless, welcome luxury in the mornings. Not that I feel exceptionally awake after, but the warmth is such a contrast to the cold temperatures outside. 15 minutes later, I stepped out of the shower, conscious of having wasted about 60 litres of water. Oh well!


The commute to the workplace was an hour and a half, door to door and the clock on the wall warned menacingly that I was pressed for time if I was hoping to make for the 7:30 train. Hurriedly, I dressed, made my face as best I could, gathered my roughly brushed through hair into a ponytail, exchanged my fluffy slippers for a pair of navy blue pencil heeled pumps, grabbed a coat and filled up the to go mug with coffee. Once out of the door of my apartment building, I walked briskly to the station, as though I was competing in a marathon.


The 7:30 commute is usually the last, least crowded train for the next couple of hours, and like me, there were others, who desired to ditch the crowd, all racing to the station. The train was on the platform waiting, suggestive of luck on my side today. I hopped on, glad that I missed the malodorous body squishing and awful sandwiching experience the following train would impose on it's passengers. Favorably, soon enough, I grabbed a seat and comfortably plopped down. Before long, the repetitive, synchronized rattle of the train lulled me into a light sleep. I tried to stay vigilant of the train pulling into different stations, people boarding on and off, the seat beside mine, being occupied with various bottoms, until I shifted into a deeper snooze. I dreamt of owning an enterprise and operating at my suitable timings. Presentable, comfortable clothing was going to be my sentiment. I was ordering a tall suited up gentleman to go back home and change into a more agreeable outfit when I was jostled awake by the whistle announcing the train about to depart. I gathered my coat, handbag and coffee mug and dashed out of the door. As I exited the train, my heel got jammed between the platform and the train, wheedling me to cascade forward. The people walking past without a concern for the next person, the train doors closing behind me, the coffee mug escaping my clasp and rolling out of sight, the handbag managing to glide off from my grasp, the coat slipping off my arm, all of it appeared to move in slow motion as I accelerated to the floor with a loud thud onto my face.


The excruciating pain that shot up to my skull desensitized the other parts. I could barely lift or move my head, spontaneously my hand moved to my mouth where a pool of hot liquid formed. With alarming confusion I realized my palm cupped all the teeth spilling out. Before I passed out, I noticed the station name, it was the wrong stop!


...Lalima

 

Comments

Rated 0 out of 5 stars.
No ratings yet

Add a rating
bottom of page