Wrong Day
I woke up in the wrong day today. I woke up to find that you'd gone away.
The clock said that it was a quarter 'til eleven. The computers said it was Friday, when you were still on vacation. I looked outside the window and it was like twilight, even though the sun should've set hours and hours before, and sunrise wasn't for many hours more.
I heard the rumbling of the ghost car that haunts the streets. I heard loud movements outside, and wild animals thundering with anger.
I tried to reach out for you but I couldn't. Nothing could reach you, nothing at all. I called and called and called, and when I called others they only laughed.
The train was deafening loud, thundering through the back yard and all up and down the street. Then I heard a gunshot and the train was deathly still...
For over two hours I was trapped in this strange place between the past and the present. I laid down for a few minutes to rest my head and fell into an odd form of sleep. My eyelids were like rocks and I could barely breathe. I managed to pry my eyes open again and looked around...
Darkness, as it should be. The twilight was gone. The night was silent, so silent that it pressed in against my ears and sent shivers down my spine. I sat up, and it was Monday, and it suddenly all made sense.
The living room is ice cold by the window, even when the heat's on. That didn't ease my panic one bit. But at least I know what day it is now. And why I cannot reach you. Because you're a state away earning your wages.
I'll sit here, wide-eyed and horrified, waiting for your return. Please don't let me sleep again... I'm afraid of what'll happen when I wake up.