Mrs. O-Something It was on the floor of my father's office I awoke. My body sprawled between a couch and a coffee table, my head resting on only the floor, my limbs bent and stiff. The first thing I think is how peculiar it is that I'm here, because it's a Saturday. When I raise my hand to check the time, I discover how inflexible my muscles seem to have become. I pull my phone out of my pocket, only to find it dead. This seems peculiar to me, as it had a full charge only hours earlier.
I stand and find my feet to be without shoes and my neck to be as unyielding as my limbs. My eyes scan the room in which I have spent so much time doing work, for school, for money, for family. They fall upon a clock above the door which graciously tells me the time is late afternoon. Almost quitting time for my father, if he's working. Which, of course, he isn't.
My legs feel l