14

Abel

I woke up the next morning at exactly five o'clock. For the first time in the last three weeks, I slept an eight-hour-long, deep fulfilling sleep. It was an achievement, considering my usual two-three hours stints. It was a cold morning, and I lay there clutching the blanket tight around my neck, keeping my eyes closed, and wishing I could sleep off again. Fewer hours to get through the damn day, if I could sleep them off. But it wasn't happening. Instead, I grew more irritated with my morning breath.

My cell phone beeped on the nightstand, startling me. I picked it up, double-tapping on the screen. It was a text from Andrew, and from the looks of the first few words visible, I could tell that he was still pissed about the meeting. I rolled my eyes as I unlocked my phone and deleted the message, without even reading it to the last word.

I yawned and drew the covers back, sitting up. Rising to my feet, I rubbed my eyes as I sauntered naked over to the window, pulling the curtain a