seven

It's still dark as I crawl awake through the murkiness of sleep. Within the confines of the bedroom, the furniture hunch like ghostly silhouettes. Familiar forms huddled together in their customary places.

(seven!)

The voice is loud. My eyes snap open wider. I am alone on this large bed snuggled under the sheets against the cool draft from the open window.

(seven!)

Usually the voices inside my head chitter away incessantly like ninnies at a bridge table. Occasionally one of them will turn around to address me directly, but never this early in the morning. But today, in the cool of the morning, this voice which is as familiar as a lover's kiss, yet as fleeting as a butterflies breath, strokes the back of my mind like long delicate fingers.

The stereo clicks on. Diffused light from the dial washes the wall in a blue glow. Soft strains of violins and pianos float through the air. 6:00 a.m. The coffee machine gurgles and spits. It won't be long before the heady aroma wafts in through the open bedroom door to nudge me fully awake.

(seven!!)

Coffee in hand, I open the door leading out to the back yard allowing the cold tendrils of a late summer morning air to slip through inside. The temperature gauge says 14C. Quietness and solitude hang like drapes among the trees. Dew twinkles along the blades of the grass in the waning moonlight. 6:14 a.m. Soon the sun will be up. I can almost feel her hand creeping around my waist. Soft breasts will be pressed against my back. Her warm breath will caress my neck. Today, work awaits.