Dawn is still an hour away. I look at the lamp- lit street that stretches before me. It seems messier than usual. The street’s surface feels rough against my bare feet.
The houses that line the street seem silent and cool. It must feel wonderful to pull a thick blanket up to one’s ears and curl up at this time in a cozy bed.
However, a street cleaner has no such option. I get to work.
I sit up with a start, and as I do that, I look at my hands involuntarily. God, they must need a wash! But they don’t look like they belong to a street cleaner.
The thick blanket falls away and my feet touch the floor tiles of my room.
The alarm clock that I punched on the head barely fifteen minutes ago seems to smile at me, as though to say “Serves you right!”
I sigh with relief as I think I am back to my own reality. Then I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror nearby and add “Whatever that may mean.”
More posts by this author:
- The Ambush – A Micro Story
- Hush! Krishna is About to Fall Asleep
- The Little Puddle
- KITTU’S TREE FRIEND
- The Goddess of Night