Empty day

Empty Day

A headache crept into my bed last night, igniting my brain. It wrapped its tentacles around my skull, digging its fists into my temples till I opened my eyes. Then shut them fast, to block the piercing light streaming in through shuttered cracks.

Last night I’d promised to cook bacon and eggs for breakfast but first had to battle the monster trying to steal my day. So I rolled over and slept, fitfully, my hip aching and my head screaming, coloured lights dancing behind closed lids.

I dreamt of driving and selling houses and falling. I woke, remembering I’d offered to take The Socialite shopping, then rolled over and slept again. The Husband fed me water and drugs and I slept some more, finally moving downstairs for hot tea and muesli and more drugs and more sleep on the patio sofa, listening to gentle rain on the roof and turning my face to the cool breeze.

The monster finally faded around 5pm, allowing me to open my eyes properly for the first time all day. Now it sits heavily over one eye, tapping my right temple impatiently, a nuisance but no longer in charge.

Angela Bensted Bw 1x1
Angela Bensted is a Brisbane-based freelance writer who likes to listen first and struggle with syntax later. She pitches stories to magazines and helps businesses produce compelling copy for print and online.
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