Short Story: “Monday Morning”

Darkness covers my site as I lie comfortably. Something creates nothing as my dreams fade to black. There is no sound, no feeling, nothing whatsoever. Serenity defines my state of being. Feeling slowly fades into my consciousness as my arms wrap around my bunched up blanket. The silence is abrasive as I remember what day it is. I feel as though I am receiving a natural amount of sleep, but I went to bed at 3 A.M. last night. Considering yesterday was Sunday, and so that means today is Monday, I should probably get up by–

My head shoots up from the pillow. Ah, crud, I can guarantee it is already past 8! I swing my legs over the side of the bed, looking down at the floor below my bunk, and I start to leap off, nearly forgetting my phone and earbuds. I reach for them quickly and fling my whole body over the edge onto the ground. My landing nearly fails as I nigh flop on the floor. My heart is beating quickly first thing in the morning due to the realization of my own tardiness and the ache in my right knee; I look down at my phone and it says the time: 8:03 in the morning. I let out a yelp at the confirmation, having wished painfully that I was wrong. I throw my shirt off and change my pants quickly, not even bothering to match the colors. I put a beanie on in order to cover my disheveled hair and slip both my feet into two socks of differing colors. There is a chair in front of my closet door, for some reason I do not know, as I usually go to bed earlier than my roommates, so they do things when I am not aware. I pull it away with enough force to knock it over and one of my roommates, Will, peers out from behind the covering on his bed and takes a gander at the chair on the floor. His head then swivels over to me, one eyebrow raised, whispering one single word. 

“Why?” he says, and I quickly whip out my phone to show him the time.

“It’s already time for my class, and I just woke up!” I throw a single pastel yellow hoodie over my head and my beanie falls off. I pick it up off the floor and thrust my head into it, not realizing that it is on backwards.
“Oh, okay,” he starts, “can you try to be quiet next time, though?”

“Yeah, yeah, it won’t happen again” The words come out as if I mean it, but I have no idea what will happen again. 

My bag sits on my chair, draping over the back, and allowing me to unzip it and slide my computer and folders into it without any difficulty. Sticking my feet into my shoes, I run out the door as Will’s head flies out from behind the covering once more, “Wai–” he yells, but I don’t have the time. I am already out the door and halfway down the hall by the time I register what is happening. As I sprint quietly– as quietly as one can sprint full speed –down the hall and remove my phone from my back jean-pocket again. The time is 8:10, and attendance has certainly already finished.

Two thoughts pass through my mind as I consider which path to take. The stairs would be quicker, but I might fall down them if I run too fast; the elevator would be slow, but I would not be hindered by my tired mind or uncoordinated feet. Cold metal presses against my hands as I push my body against the doorway to the stairs, as that would be faster than waiting for a lift. Resistance strikes me as I push harder, the door fighting back. Why now? This only happens when I’m running! The door finally blasts open and I stumble, nearly losing my footing completely, where I jump down a flight of stairs and spin nearly 180o. I slam into the wall, failing to stop my inertia, and run to the door one floor below me. A golden handle twists easily as the door pulls open, and I shift quickly into the hallway. What would usually feel like a cluttered hallway of one thousand peers, it is ghostly in its nature. Not a soul inhabits it, and I groan loudly as my feet start to pick up speed. Breathing heavily already, I leap over a set of 5 stairs in an attempt to make it to class quicker. Another long hallway stands in my way before I get to the final stretch. 

Tennis-shoes squeak under me on the white tile floor just before I enter the hallway, and, as I do, I feel more secure running on the carpeted interior. Windows line the hallway with metal bars securing them in place, and I pick up speed with the new traction. The world spins 90o as my feet push me toward my right. I spin to my right one more time, and I see the door. My feet slow as I come to a halt outside the door. Nothing but a piece of wood standing between myself and the classroom of on-time students. I feel ashamed, and my face turns red as I twist the handle. Red quickly changes to white as I do not recognize the professor at the end of the classroom. 

“Oh, uh, hello?” The professor says to me softly. 

“Wait, what class is this?” My mouth says before I can even stop to think about what is happening. 

“God and the Gospel.” He says with a confused chuckle. 

“Oh, okay. I’m sorry for barging in.” I say. 

“It’s okay. We all make mistakes.” We exchange eye contact one more time as I turn and speed-walk out of the classroom.

When I get back to my room, Will is sitting in his chair waiting for me. He holds back a laugh, covering his sly smile with his left hand while his right arm rests on the chair’s arm. “You know it’s Tuesday, right?” He chokes down his chuckle once more. “That’s what I tried to tell you, if you didn’t realize already.”

“Yeah, I know.”