12
I wake to somebody bouncing on my bed by my right ear – I hear the springs of the mattress recoil; feel the depression of the mattress; and am startled by the unexpectedness of it all. They bounce again around the middle of the bed, and one final time at the end of the bed, like they’re working their way down a hopscotch grid. And that’s it. Done. It happens in the time it takes me to wake, so I’m playing catch-up on processing all this. “Who’s there?” I bark. There’s no response. I see nothing. But my heart thumps. It’s night – early morning. Who the hell would bounce…
Sixteen
Most days, I’ll walk to work, which takes about twenty-five minutes. I’ll follow a roundabout route home to add another ten or fifteen minutes to the walk. Being unable to run and limited with what I can do due to the damage to my right leg, walking’s one of the few things I can do as exercise. It also helps to spend some physical energy. Getting to sleep is never easy, but it’s always harder on days I don’t walk. Like many writers, I’m a tea-drinker. The schedule at work is regimented: it’ll usually be three throughout the workday (two in the morning, and one in the afternoon). Once I…