250 - kettle

he alarm hadn't yet gone off, so Alice knew that she had slept for less time than afforded. That was good, as the alarm she had set was for the absolute latest time she could possibly wake up. She hated rushing. She hated doing most things these days, she conceded. Head still clouded with fog and eyes half-open, she picked up her phone and checked the time.

Only twelve minutes had elapsed. This surprised Alice. She had given herself thirty-five minutes for a nap, and would've been happy with twenty. But, twelve? She wondered, had she even fallen asleep?

She sat up from the sofa and turned off the alarm on her phone. Alice had a tendency to wake up before her alarms, and she hated being startled by a forgotten one going off later. Maybe even more than she hated an alarm actually serving its intended purpose and waking her up. So many things to hate.

Her mind wandered back to the question of whether or not she had slept, and she settled on thinking it was impossible in that short of a time. She certainly didn't feel refreshed or energized, definitely not ready to take on the remainder of the day.

Alice sighed. But, she had dreamed, hadn't she? The memory of it was very vivid. He was there. As he so often was. She shook her head, slightly, as it was a display only for herself. To disabuse herself of the memory. No. There was no sleep, and thus there was no dream.

She stood up now, ambling groggily towards the window of her family's living room. The house was quiet now, as were the streets outside. Alice waited for some signs of life. She couldn't decide if she was lucky to live in this liminal space, or cursed. A car finally glided by, presupposing at least the existence of others.

Of course there were others, Alice reassured herself. For some reason, though, she doubted this like she doubted the dream. She glanced again at the time on her phone. Time progressed, whether or not her perception of reality agreed. She had time, she realized, but not as much as when she had first awoken from her nap.

Had she awoken? She got frustrated with herself, thinking in this loop. She pried herself from the window, walking to the bathroom where she brushed her teeth. She proceeded to then change into her work uniform, leaving her comfy house clothes in a pile on the floor at the foot of her bed. Alice was a neat person but not a neat freak, after all. No one would begrudge her the slight act of slobbishness.

Alice gathered up the things she took with her every day to work. She stood at the doorway, pulling her keys off the hook. There were four hooks but, after Alice had grabbed hers, they all now stood empty. Supporting nothing, there nonetheless. She silently whispered goodbye to the empty house, a habit she knew was pointless but one she could not break regardless.

The walk from the front door to the sidewalk was a short one. The distance from the sidewalk to her car was shorter still. The commute still lay in front of her, but that stressed Alice out to the point that she considered these short distances her final moments where she was not yet on the clock. She opened the car door and slung her bag into the passenger seat before slinging herself into the driver seat.

She closed the door and sat there. For a moment, silence. Alice gripped the wheel. Tight, hard, in a way that didn't make sense. She exhaled, and turned the key.