A Morning in Vignettes: (Theme 9)

A door creaks in the distance.  My bed trembles forcing me to shift positions.  The television turns on to block out the echoes of silence.  Mind racing, I remind myself how old I am as I roll over pillow covering my head.  Blanket, pillow, and television in hand I make way to my brother's room.

***

My eyes claim it's 7:35 but my body screams otherwise.  "We tried waking you multiple times."  Frustration. "Socks was sleeping on you?" No time for a shower.  Only the essentials before running out the door.

***

Ten minutes late requires an apology.  "Don't worry. We can fit you in."  I close the dressing room curtain.  I emerge with hospital pants, sneakers, and my long sleeve t-shirt.  Anxiety floods me over expectations involving the return of my cartilage piercing.  Key around my wrist, I wait to be called. 

***

"Claustrophobic?" No. "Pregnant?" No. "Implants?" No.  "Piercings?"  Taken out.  The door shuts.  I'm raised then slowly inserted.  I pray I pass test number two.