His Alarm Clock

The first few steps were always the hardest. They'd need her full concentration. One foot before the other, dragging her tired body along with them. The carpet was key - her toes dug in deep, holding firm. She knew the hardest part was over - she was at least out of bed - up and moving. Although, based on the speed that she shuffled, one could debate if she was actually up or not.

Every morning, she was always impressed at how well she knew her house. How many steps it took to get from her room to the bathroom. When to turn into it. She was no longer startled by the coolness of the linoleum against the bottoms of her feet - she looked forward to the jolt it sent through her body - aiding in the wakening process. The whole time her eyes would virtually be closed - still heavy from the night's sleep, yet, she'd still be able to find the faucet to the shower and turn it on. She knew the shiver was coming - when the cold water poured out, sending a fine mist into the air only to land on her skin. No matter how many times she waited for it - every time it stole the breath from her lungs.

Standing there, shivering, she'd wait for the water to be the right temperature. Most people would swear it'd burn her skin, but even then, she wanted it hotter. She didn't just want the water to warm her exterior - she wanted to feel it deep in her core, between her muscles, rubbing up against her bones. She didn't want to just feel warm - she wanted to be warm.

And when it was the right moment - she would step in, ever so gracefully, closing the door quietly behind her. Once the water poured over her face for a few seconds, pushing away any leftover grogginess, thats when she opened her eyes to the world - under a vail of cascading water and auburn hair. It just felt right. Necessary to wait that long before seeing the world. She liked the privacy. The space she was able to inhabit - locked in her head - alone. Only the water was able to break her out. Shock her enough to open up - join the land of the living.

She'd just stand there - letting the water beat down on her back, between her shoulders, down her spine, past her legs, and into the drain. She couldn't get out until her skin was pink from the heat and the water was beginning to cool, just when the hot water heater was sputtering its last few breaths.

When she got out, she was much quicker than when she first shambled in. The linoleum was too cool for her freshly warmed toes, and the air in the hallway gusted under her towel - inviting the goosebumps to reveal themselves.

As soon as she got back to the bedroom and flung the door closed, her towel fell to the floor as she bounded to the bed. She'd immediately throw herself under the covers, still covered in tiny beads of condensation, and up against his warm, dry body - throwing her damp hair across his face. He'd always groan and roll over - like he didn't like it.

But he did.

She smelled so fresh. Felt so warm - even against his own body that had been simmering under the down comforter. Her skin was so soft, clean, smooth. It was all a show. He always acted like he was asleep but every morning he looked forward to her sliding in between the sheets - the first moment of the day when he could see her.

There was no better way to wake up.