In the matter of speaking there is light and shadow in everyone. There are corners and rounds. There are definitions and undefinable parts.
This story is about all non-definable.
She stood on the edge, wind blowing directly in her heart. Hair tossing around, eyes watering with the smells brought by the sea. Small drops salted water picking on her skin. Grass tickling her ankles and small rocks crunched under her feet. The sun was reflecting on the sea's surface, half blinding her, touching her face softly.
She took a deep breath inhaling smells - seawater, sand, dust, algue and something else, undefinable, found only at seashores. From the far left she could hear a seagull cawing.
The path had brought her here. Her story was about to end. In her head war noises were ringing - sounds made by machinery moving, iron scrapping, people shouting, mussels exploding. It all ended here.
But where is here?
Kay woke up with a sharp inhale. Her ears stuffed, her chest hurting by her pounding heart. Her eyes blinded and itchy. Nothing to see in the dark.
She was alone in her room. It was small space, not much bigger than a box two in two meters wide and long. Her bunk was taking most of it. At her feet, she knew, were all of her belongings, boxed and pilled up. If she was to sit up, could reach the door with her left hand. Wouldn't right now, though.
Kay stayed put, trying to breathe as light, as possible, not moving. Tried to remember the dream. It was noisy and scary with something small and settling about it. A smell. Feeling.
She shrugged in the dark. Probably would never know. It was time to fall asleep again, but it seemed impossible. She turned and tossed around for what felt like hours, but no dream was coming - not the memory of the old one, nor a new one.
"Come on" thought to herself "Sleep! You have so much work in the morning!"
It didn't help, of course. Neither did her imagining the task awaiting - the outside corpus needed urgent repairs and parts replacements, all in freezing temperatures far below zero. The joys of being the last one.
The unsettling feeling for forgetting something was bugging her. Soon her back was, too. All the dream's senses - power, fulfillment, freedom, freshness - were gone and forgotten before the alarm turned off.
Time to get to work.
Kay snoozed the alarm for the third time and tiresomely emerged from her IKEA bed dressed with the latest IKEA sheets. Seemed like they really did put spell on one into "sleeping like in a dreamland" - Kay felt rested and fresh after a goodnight sleep.
She looked at her reflection in the far-end wall mirror, but it was too distant for her to make something of the image. Moved her feet around, looking for her slippers, couldn't find them and after a look around noticed that they were left all the way next to the semi-closed closet's door.
With a grown, Kay put her bare feet in the carpet and dragged herself up and into the closet, where she could start the long process of deciding what the bank CEO would wear today.
Kay dreamed of weekend.
