“Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet
Are of imagination all compact….”
Wait, lover? No, wait, lunatic?! Who shapes fantasies?
“Ouch!” I moaned.
“STOP singing -correction- stop mumbling. Madmen? Lovers? Poets?”
“Ouch! Why’d you pinch me?!”
“Because she’s right! Now wake up!”
Why is it still pitch black?!
“-What the-” I shouted as cold water was splashed across my face.
Damn it! It had to be water! Ok so I’m not a ‘clean freak’, so to say, but still, who the hell is going to wipe the sofa? Arghh! And floor?
So this is my mind right now…
1. I’m wet. So what? My dark brown hair can dry on it’s own accord. Right?
2. No no no, our shiny smooth floor is wet.
3. Argh the large sofa too.
4. Must run to kitchen, get, I don’t know, a towel maybe, NOW!
5. Soak up water, or do I say spillage?
6. What are you waiting for?
Breathe Sofia, breathe. Look around: April’s now sitting at the table eating, looks like cereal. June’s pacing back and forth with papers in one hand and mobile the other. But she just pinched me! How long have I been wiping? Hmm, interesting. Me? Why am I sleeping on the sofa? No, it’s why was I sleeping on the sofa. Right? I was still dressed in the same suit from yesterday. Couldn’t be bothered to change out of my black trousers or white blouse; wrinkled now I may add. My mascara was now…actually, let’s not go there right now.
“Stop talking to yourself Sof!” I think that was April shouting. Hmm I wasn’t. I was merely trying to explain my appearance and situation to…to um, to. Oh I don’t know!
Still slightly disorientated, I got up and looked down on the table. I felt a small smile etch onto the corner of my lips. The neat stack of papers on the table whispered back at me “Sofia, you’re ready. They won’t know what’s hit them once you’re done.”