A Change In Routine

• Emily Jones, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2020

It’s 8am. I awake from colourful dreams, to the reality of a gloomy world. A dim white light through the crack in the window, the rustle of bed sheets, the coarse feel of old slippers on time roughened soles, shuffling in darkness across well-worn floors.
I pause and stare at the shadow reflected in the old mirror above the rusty sink. So much less substantial than my memories, so lacking in life, I hardly recognise the vague, grey distortion that is myself. I stretch for an old cup, and run the rubber and the bristles through my fingers. A white line of fluoride coats my gums, fizzing and frothing around fragile teeth for its first time, today. I spit, and watch the mixture of white foam flow into the drain. Its job, over. Useless. My pyjama sleeve picks up the residue of foam that formed around my mouth. I walk to the old wooden cupboard back within the bedroom.
The drawer creaks, as I pull it closer towards me, it’s almost bare. Grey, grey, grey, I search for the right pair of trousers. Where are they? I glance towards the bathroom, they lie upon the stained white tiles of the bathroom among a crumbled fabric pool. Dirty. I’m forced to wear the conventional grey pair. The second drawer is pulled, a singular lone moth flutters out, circling in front of me, before disappearing into the distance. White. The only colour. I guess it will do. I undress, putting my arms through the threadbare shirt, and pulling the trousers over my frail form. I look down towards my bare feet. The shirt has a small hole, right at the bottom, I tuck it into the pants so it can’t be seen. I pull on some socks, a hole for each big toe accommodates each side. The empty spaces, the endless gaps, all of which consume my life.
Breakfast, 2 pieces of burnt toast, no butter, dry and almost inedible. I stare at an empty screen, the slow consumption of the crust allows me to disappear into the abyss of the televisions obsidian mirror. The daily routine, the greyscale life that consumes me, I eat meagrely but it feasts on what is left of the life force within me. It’s all a vicious cycle and a constant reminder. The memories and this life of mine, it could all be wiped away, removing a presence so easily.
I return to the bedroom and lay upon the bed with the already warn out clothes pressed against the sheets and my body, I am prepared, prepared for the daily routine. I close my weary eyes and drift off into a deep sleep. Light draws close, behind my eyes, an array of kaleidoscopic colours reach me like my dreams and I feel at peace.