Breakfast in bed.

You wake up at 6 in the morning, woken up by the birds’ cacophony on the tree next to your window. You only wish for another hour of sleep, but it eludes you. You lie on the bed, thinking of the million things and situations that can randomly happen to you. Then, you notice yourself, or try to. Hair stuck to your face, hands at the most awkward angle under your pillow, legs spread all over the bed, t-shirt all they way up to your neck, bra showing (you wonder why you even wear a t-shirt anymore). And then you turn. You turn to the other side and notice the slight dent on your bed, you run your whole hand around in an arc, hoping to touch his skin somewhere along. But there’s no contact. You wonder why and again try and go off to sleep. You keep thinking why he isn’t on the bed, next to you anymore. Groggy from having woken up too early, to try and hum a song. The lyrics stop running in your mind’s teleprompter and you stop at singing also. Now you start wondering why you can’t concentrate on anything anymore.

Then, you hear a slight clanking of a vessel and that makes you jump out of bed in fear. You, in your brilliant mind, start to wonder how the burglars got in. Putting your feet into the slippers, you start walking in tiptoes out of your bedroom. In the back of your mind, you’re still casually wondering where he went and blaming yourself for letting him go. But you have bigger worries now. You contemplate between carrying one of the dumbbells on the floor or just scaring them by calling the police. You cannot stop all of that tension so you slowly pick up the bottle on the bed-stand and drink half of it. Finally you pick up some courage and reach the corridor. You smell a soothing fragrance around your whole house and wonder who’s burning brilliant things at this time of the morning. Again, that is a question to be answered later as you’re walking along the corridor as slowly as you can, to just make out the silhouette of the person who might have infiltrated your home. 

Finally, you make it to the kitchen and you notice someone bent down. Now you think of the different angles with which you can hit him with the dumbbell so he’s instantly incapacitated. You start wondering how he got inside. You start fumbling around for a place to hide. You start wondering what he is going to do to you. You also want to know what he’s trying to steal from your kitchen. 

He notices your shadow and turns around.

“Good morning, sunshine! I was just making you breakfast in bed. But what are you doing with the dumbbell above your head?” your curious partner asks.

Girl, I think you think too much. 

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