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Rated: E · Prose · Other · #1089438
A brief account of the end of a tiresome week ...
Nothing At All

I turn the key in the lock, home at last, thank God! And it’s Friday, the end of long working week, and the beginning of a very short weekend.

I hang up my coat and pick up the mail, the usual junk stuff that will find its way to the bin. I make my way to the kitchen and leave my keys where I always find them, and with a sigh, I fill the kettle and prepare a much-desired coffee. Instant, of course. Everything has to be instant these days, no time to wait for anything these days. Everything rushed, it has to be.

I sit and slip off my shoes whilst I wait for the kettle’s familiar click, and pouring the boiling water into the cup, give it a quick stir and I can finally give myself time, just to relax.

God, I feel old. Tired and drained, and old. I sip the bitter-sweet liquid, strong and black and find some comfort there. I should eat but find myself too tired, even for that. I look at the clock, five forty five p.m.

I listen to the quiet, and the peace descends on me. My eyes feel heavy and I decide to have a lie down, just for an hour or so………..


I open my eyes and try to focus on the bedside clock, five minutes to twelve! I can’t believe it. I’ve slept for six long hours. Hardly surprising really after the week I’ve endured. But I’m comfortable now and have no inclination to move, and quickly I once again drift into oblivion.

My sleep is dreamless, I recall as I waken at six a.m., with Friday well and truly put to rest and Saturday an empty page waiting to be written on. My head feels muggy and I make my way to the kitchen to replenish the coffee cup.

I listen to the sounds of suburbia springing into life. Although still dark, early risers are on the move, cars setting off for the business of the day, and I listen and watch the taillights disappear up the steep hill heading for the motorway.

I look to the vast dark skies and then to the east where the sun is making its valiant attempt to rise through the gloomy January mist and I sigh again, in relief this time, knowing that for today I need do nothing, nothing at all.
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