Piercing through the darkness was the red 3:23 displayed on her alarm clock.
It sat there confidently, knowingly mocking the fact that she was laying there unable to sleep. Understanding that even if she rolled over and closed her eyes she would be constantly calculating how many hours of sleep she would get as each minute ticked by.
This was becoming a nightly occurrence.
Insomnia, according to WebMD.
At that time of night weird things are going on.
TV sucks, unless you enjoy infomercials all attempting to capture the attention of spend-happy insomniacs who need a new way to cook chicken – according to http://www.reddit.com/r/insomnia/.
When you’re overtired, reading becomes a proposition with little upside. The words start to dance and blend together on the page turning the book into a large word search that is also trying to tell you a story.
Laying there with your eyes open is really all you can do. Hoping that sleep will consume you, capturing you in its grasp and dragging you away against your will as your brain fights but your instinct is to just let go and let it happen.
3:28 and nothing has changed.
3:52 she drifted off.
The sound of tapping on her window woke her up around 5:13. The wind was strong that night, she figured it to be a branch being thrown around in the wind like a dog with a stuffed animal.
She let out a exacerbated sigh and laid there until 6:00 when she got into the shower.
She left for work at 7:25 and caught the bus at 7:31.
She hates her job, which probably contributes to her insomnia, it’s brainless and leaves her mostly ignored. Most days she walks aimlessly around the office trying to find places to quietly think or nod off without anyone noticing.
It’s 5:00 p.m. and it took forever to arrive like a train pulling into the station when you’re late for a meeting. She ran out the door and caught the 5:03 p.m. bus back home. She always sat in the back right corner of the bus so she could stare out the window and without fail a large man with a name tag that read “Carney” took the seat next to her like every other day. Most people would be annoyed by this daily occurrence but she didn’t mind, human contact wasn’t common for her.
As if watching a video on repeat she had to squeeze by “Carney” to get off the bus at her stop like every other day. He just sat there like a large boulder, unmoved by any forces or compulsion to be civil.
She never made a big deal about it.
Voices were heard in her apartment. Faint whispering that was inaudible. She was annoyed, unhappy that her landlord would do this to her. Another person not taking her into consideration and acting like she wasn’t a factor in anything.
She was fed up and had enough. All of this pent-up rage was boiling at the surface and ready to explode.
She took all of the aggression she suppressed for years and used the adrenaline to kick in the door. She felt like a mother lifting a car up off her child. Her breathing slowed down causing a small growl with each inhale, each exhale sounded like the release of an air-brake on a tractor-trailer.
An audible scream from a woman is heard and as a group of three people round the corner to see what the loud noise was. The door is wide open with the woman standing in the doorway, the faces of the people drop and seem perplexed.
“That’s strange.” A woman says to the group.
“Is this common?” The man follows.
“I’m sorry. In all the times I’ve shown this place I’ve never seen that.” The real estate agent said.
The real estate agent start flipping through her files as all eyes are fixated on the door. The woman continues to breathe heavily, letting out a hissing that sounds like the release of steam from a radiator.
“Well at least the heat works.” The man says. All three of the group giggle as they were looking for something to break the tension.
“Also does all of this furniture come with the place?” The man asked.
“Yes! It does. The owners are looking to get rid of this place as soon as possible.”
The man and woman smile at each other.
“We’ll take it!” The woman says.
“Okay! Great! By law I do have to let you know that the previous tenant died in this apartment and people have reported strange and possibly (audible chuckle) paranormal activity.” The real estate agent tells the couple.
“Could that be what caused the door to slam open like that?” Asked the man.
“Anything is possible, right?” The real estate agent answered.
“I already love this place.” The woman said.
“Me too.” Replied the man.