Good morning and welcome to Friday. This week seems to have gotten longer and longer as it has gone on. At this point it feels like it has been at least nine days since Monday. I know it hasn’t, but it feels that way. I think that part of it might be the weather. Monday and Tuesday were relatively pleasant and then the heat rose and the world felt like it was melting and everything slowed down simply for survival’s sake. It sort of makes me feel as though making it to Friday is some sort of victory. Like reaching an oasis in the desert. we have made it, now everyone rehydrate before we move on. So let us celebrate our arrival on Friday with a cool drink of the last writing prompt of the week. Are you ready? Then knock the sand out of the canteen and let’s go.
I think I started this story with one idea and then it morphed into a completely different one. I suspect I’ll read this again in a few month’s time and split it into two separate things. Not sure how I feel about it.
Friday, June 24th: We handled the crisis really well.
We handled the crisis really well. It wasn’t or sort of thing really, but there was no one else so we did what we could. The authorities were called, the injuries seen to and the insurance people phoned. Information was collected and filed. During the crisis there was a sense of purpose. It was almost as if a check list appeared in my head fully formed and blocking out panic and other darker emotions.
Someone had broken into our home while we were sleeping. We were awoken and violence ensued before the intruders departed with many of our portable valuables. Later I was certain emotions would surface. Yet now, as though someone had implanted the understanding of what needed to be done, the list filled my brain.
I wasn’t sure where such a list came from. It wasn’t as though I ever sat down and planned out what I would do in this event. I never envisioned being a part of this sort of event. Yet there the list was. I was proud of myself for handling the crisis and proud of everyone else as well. All of them looked a bit shell shocked but no one fell apart. No one crumbled. We all did our part for the authorities.
Then they were gone, silence returned. It was only then that we looked at each other, looked at the damage done and let the reality sink in. Slowly as if our bodies were obeying a dictate that our mind’s hadn’t processed, we began to move through the house. Furniture was righted and drawers were closed. Broken glass was swept up and as we all worked the house regained a semblance of normality.
Then there was nothing else that needed to be done. We all stood in the living room staring at one another.
For the first time all night I realized we were all still in our pajamas. While the five of us had been roommates for a while, sharing the rent and the bills, we each mostly kept to our own sections. It was a sprawling old Victorian so there was plenty of room. There was a shared kitchen space, but by the time anyone used it they were already dressed for the day. To see my roommates in such stages of undress was an occasional hazard but not one that occurred with enough regularity for me to grow accustomed to it. I saw them either at the beginning or end of their work days, rarely in the between bits.
As I reflected on how different everyone looked in the middle of the night, I realized something. I blinked and did a quick head count. “Tommy” I said.
The others looked at me as though I had gone mad. “He isn’t here.” I pointed out.
The others began looking around the room as though he was hiding with the house plants or had accidentally gotten tucked inside the drawer with the newly refolded take out menus. As Tommy was six foot four it was soon apparent he was not hidden in the shadows.
“Was he here earlier,” Michael asked.
Again all of us stared into space, this time trying to remember the last time we had seen Tommy.
“Maybe he went back to bed?” Kristen suggested.
“Should we go check?” Laura asked.
There were nods and we all turned towards the stairs. Tommy had virtually an entire wing of the house to himself. Like the rest of us he had a bedroom, bathroom and small sitting area. In a parade we all trouped upstairs and turned into the hall leading to Tommy’s space.
Ten til Midnight 