The Morning
Just a quick bit of writing for the sake of it. Nothing special, kept it short. I have an Idea of the character but I have no idea what the plot will be yet.
Her left ear rhythmically twitching, she begins to wake up. The bright white wall opposite her reflects a painfully bright light back into her face before she quickly squeezes her eyes shut again. She rolls over to look at her bedside clock only to see it's fallen flat on its face. As her right arm moves for it, she feels her ribs ache. Letting out a soft groan, she drops her arm back to where it began. Bringing the duvet with her, she begins to wriggle herself up towards her pillow, eyes still closed. She reaches again, this time forcing herself through the pain. As her hand lands on the back of the black plastic clock, it lets out a soft plastic creak. Too weak to lift her arm, she pushes down on the back of the clock to lever it the right way up. 12:34. As she read the time she quickly realised that, without context, this time is useless. What day is it? Was she supposed to be anywhere? She frantically began to wonder where her phone had gone. It wasn't on her bedside table. She squints at the floor next to her table expecting her work pants. Nothing. She paused, wondering where she would even start looking for it.
A sudden feeling of pulling-fur emerged from between her thigh and groin. Reaching down to move her underwear she is met by the waistband of her work pants, obnoxiously ramming her underwear up into her thigh and denying her access to the problem. She slips one hand into her pants to resolve her underwear issue and one into her pocket in the hopes of finding her phone.
Thursday morning began with two successes.