My eyes open but I am not awake. My body stands up, but I remain in bed.
Eventually, I realize I am in the car and I am driving. I listen to the soft drumming of the guitar and the tinny hum of the harmonica that once pressed against Bob Dylan’s lips to make the recording I’m listening to today. I feel nothing. I desperately desire to feel something. I tug at the hood on my head and nudge it forward to fully close off what surrounds me.
I pace forward. Each step is hard work. I follow the procedures at work – turn on the lights, plug in the machine, push here, pull there, click-click goes the key in the lock. Inside my mind a dullness sets in. It makes a quiet buzzing noise, enough to distract me from anything occurring around me, causing me to have to strain and lean in and ask “can you repeat that?”
I keep breathing in and out – a sign of life. I am able to crawl along with my duties, just enough to get by. Soon I will leave to the comfortable space of my car. I may linger longer in the car when I return home. Maybe I’ll watch the rain fall onto the windshield for a while.