Minute 7:05 AM

Thursday February 10, 2011

Minute 7:05 AM

There is no past, no present, no future. Is that success?

Then, the sound is first. A dull thud, as if the sound is still
lethargic too. Chemicals along axons and dendrites carefully relay a
message, and Aaron works out what made the sound. The wall hit his
elbow. Groan.

The bed is flush against the wall, and flush again against the wall
under the window at the foot of the bed. The head of the bed is flush
against the short side of a bookshelf. The mattress is smaller than a
standard twin, in every dimension. It is not a royal flush.

If Aaron flung out his arm in the other direction, it would touch the
desk across two feet of floor space, or the chair that rolls in that
space. A foot kicked in that direction could contact the mini-fridge
door. Not that anything's inside. A higher kick would hit the
mini-cabinet over the fridge. A kick straight up would part clothes
hanging from a hanger bar that spans the room, maybe six feet long.
Here is a vampire spaceship submarine palace.

Aaron hopes the sound from the elbow wall doesn't disturb his
neighbor, just a hand's breadth away.

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