Restless

Michelle sat cross-legged on the bed. The clock read: 04:17. She allowed a long, deep-exhaling sigh to flow through her lips and hang in the still air of the room. Time to open a window!

She pulled back the thick-grey curtains and looked through the glass into her disaster of a garden. Ignoring its beckoning, she opened the window and took a lungful of the fresh, early-morning breeze.

By the side of her bed, a small bowl teetered on an overloaded bedside table. She looked at the contents: A chopped up banana, Alpen and a smidgen of low-fat milk. Her face screwed up, and as she imagined the dust-like dryness of the Aplen, she absent mindedly gathered the moistness in her mouth and swallowed. The diet can wait!

She returned to the bed, this time climbing under the covers and clamping her eyes so tightly together, white lights danced behind them. Insomnia sucks! She continued the pressure on her orbs, smiling as she felt light-headed, hoping she might at least pass out. Nothing. The light-headedness retreated, leaving behind the beginnings of a headache and tender eye-sockets.

She fidgeted under the covers, her toes twitching and stretching as if trying to escape. She sat up. 04:22. Jesus! She pushed the covers off, swung her bare legs over the side of the bed and forced herself into a standing position. A jog. It's the only answer. Her shoulders slumped, her features taking the form of silent protest. It's better than laying here feeling sorry for myself... I guess.

She probed her fingers into a pile of clothes. Struggling herself into a shocking-pink t-shirt, navy-blue shorts and a pair of lime-green ankle socks, she noted the terrible colour-coordination. It's not like anyone will see!