The morning breakfasts

The night time falls. Though she'd love to shut her gift of sight for the day, the reality refrains from drifting away. There she was. Lying still on the creaking bed she now calls home. No place else in the world ever comfort her the way her own warm bed does. As the short arm of her beloved watch, a gift she dearly kept, strikes one, God took her soul for the night, giving it back to her when she wakes up in the morning. Strangely, the night was dreamless.

Morning came. Her second most favourite part of the day, after 'Night'. There she was. Lying still on the creaking bed she now calls home. A few hours ago she wanted reality to go away. Now she rises as reality embraces her again for yet another day. She woke up to the smell of breakfast. A smell so familiar it brought her back to the joyful morning breakfasts she used to have three years ago. And then she realized, that was then. The smell was imaginary. Every morning she wished it was real. But it wasn't, because time was jealous enough to erase every piece of memory she had, of her morning breakfasts three years ago.

Her mind stares blankly to the white ceiling above her. Most days she wakes up on impulse, because reality told her so. She wonders how her day might be, though she knows the end would always be the same, of her wanting reality to leave her alone when night falls. Forcing every twitching muscles in her body to say hello to the beautiful sunrise, she starts her day off heavily. Always wishing for the morning breakfasts she used to have three years ago.