Morning Jog

         The noise of the city awoke her from her already light slumber. The various car horns and conversations coming from outside her third floor window should never have to be heard this early. She lay in bed, now restless from her rude awakening. She stared at the ceiling wondering whether or not she should skip her morning jog. No matter how fatigued she was, her morning run had always been a necessary part of her day. She decided to get up. Her refrigerator beckoned her with the promise of orange juice. She drank it out of the carton. No one would care. Her athletically fitting running clothes were very conveniently hung on her bedroom doorknob, as they had been every night. She didn't bother to shower, she normally saved that for after her run, unless she had been out late the night before. She went into the living room to get dressed. The bedroom wasn't lit well enough. After checking herself out in one of the various mirrors strewn about the studio apartment, she went to pick up her cell phone. She had a few leftover texts from the night before, but nothing that required her immediate attention. She dropped her phone on the couch, grabbed her keys and bounced over to the front door. She opened the door halfway and stopped. She stared at the couch for a few seconds. She closed the door, came back into her apartment, threw herself onto the couch and immediately fell asleep.