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Published: 2008-03-08 06:08:59 +0000 UTC; Views: 19; Favourites: 0; Downloads: 0
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Description
Every morning, he wipes the clock's crimson light from his eyes. His hands are rough against the delicate skin of his eyelids; his hands are rough against everything. He wakes up, sighs, and walks dazed into his bathroom, where he will wash off the small traces of oil that he had produced in the five hours he had been sleeping. He has a sleeping problem. Wakes up every morning at One A.M., and twice more after that before his alarm screams at Four A.M.Turns on the light and this time he can't escape it. He undresses and steps into a shower, five feet long by three feet wide. He shivers and opens his eyes for the first time today. He looks at the droplets of tap water running down his skin, almost like those of the ocean, those that the sun had dried off so many years ago. Maybe the salt had soaked through his skin, but even so it's long gone. Every morning his hand reaches for the cold water knob.
He'll stretch a little, bending his left knee and rolling his right shoulder. Surgeries on both.








