I’m awake before the alarm, as usual. Awake before a lot of things. If I turn my head right now and look at the clock I know the numerals I’m seeing won’t be Arabic. Probably won’t even be numbers.
Things are like that here. On this side of the crack.
My bed’s trying to eat me again; I can feel it gnawing on my legs past the sweet anesthetic of the covers. The pillow is swelling, smothering. I want to turn and toss once and never move again.
But I can’t. Because I can’t, because I can’t. So I tear myself upright and kick free of warm and soft and stagger over to where my clothes might be if they are.
They are.
That’s a good sign. One of many I’ll need to make it.
The hallway this side of the crack is longer but thinner. Sharp edges, ice-cold bruisers, all waiting for the toes and the heel. You can cripple yourself here if you’re not careful, or in a rush. And there’s always a rush.
The kitchen’s simpler. The food’s there. What it is right now is harder to understand, but it’s there.
So I pounce on the first cupboard to creak and snap open a flapping lid and tear through thick plastic and it’s cereal, hard on the gums but easy on the stomach. Once it’d been flour. Fun day that was.
Down, down to the doormat, stomping boots on sloppily before fumbling for laces. Feet-covering first, then fuss. I’ve already spent too much time with nothing but wool between my toes and this side of the crack. And it’s about to get harder.
The car keys are treacherously tangled with all the others and I lose precious seconds or years fumbling with colt metal and cold fingers. By the time the engine’s on and warm the fuzz has crept back into my brain and eyes and blood. I’m flying blind with highbeams on as everything screams HUSH at me, stumbling round corners and forgetting my lunch, route and name. It’s all pushing down on me as I crest the hill.
And from there, about to be swallowed up, I see the crack.
It’s not quite gold or red. It’s not quite anything; there are no colours on this side.
But it’s enough.
I drive forward. I fall through it.
I hear the world breathe again.
And it’s morning.