Writing Prompt #19 -- The sound: Brrrring
Brrring -- brring -- brring. What is that horrible noise? Oh, the construction next door. Some poor worker must be slaving away with a sledge hammer. Wow, his rhythm is perfect; too perfect. Brring -- brring.
Alarm clock. I reach my hand out and fumble around on my desk for the little button to end my misery. Is it a snooze day? What day is it? What do I have going on? Think? I try clear the fog of my dream, still nestling around me -- a ball of yarn longing to be unfurled. It was a nice dream, that much I still taste.
I eventually deny it any more time and roll out of bed, my pajamas more wrinkled than my thoughts, and stretch my arms as high as they can go. I walk over to the bulletin board by my desk and finger through the myriad of papers, business cards, and ephemera tacked on. Where did I put that? Think - what color was it? Blue. Some shade of blue - with a camera logo on it. Makes sense. She's a photographer.
I find it tripled under some Chinese take out coupons and a notice of some recall on my Toyota.
"Rrff, rrff," my Labradoodle comes bounding in - sensing I was finally awake and ready to play. I burrow my head in her furry goodness.
"Come on, Cinnamon," I say, "Let's go get ourselves a job."
Brrring -- brring -- brring. What is that horrible noise? Oh, the construction next door. Some poor worker must be slaving away with a sledge hammer. Wow, his rhythm is perfect; too perfect. Brring -- brring.
Alarm clock. I reach my hand out and fumble around on my desk for the little button to end my misery. Is it a snooze day? What day is it? What do I have going on? Think? I try clear the fog of my dream, still nestling around me -- a ball of yarn longing to be unfurled. It was a nice dream, that much I still taste.
I eventually deny it any more time and roll out of bed, my pajamas more wrinkled than my thoughts, and stretch my arms as high as they can go. I walk over to the bulletin board by my desk and finger through the myriad of papers, business cards, and ephemera tacked on. Where did I put that? Think - what color was it? Blue. Some shade of blue - with a camera logo on it. Makes sense. She's a photographer.
I find it tripled under some Chinese take out coupons and a notice of some recall on my Toyota.
"Rrff, rrff," my Labradoodle comes bounding in - sensing I was finally awake and ready to play. I burrow my head in her furry goodness.
"Come on, Cinnamon," I say, "Let's go get ourselves a job."
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