A thickness clung to the air;
dampening the windows and making the couples steady breaths visible. The room had a chill to it, forcing the two
into a tight embrace. They lay on a
simple twin bed, crammed against the unadorned white walls, in their pathetically
small apartment. A single overstuffed gray suitcase was pushed up against the
wall next to the door.
Izi awoke first, blinking away her
drowsiness, and shivering as she took in the cold air. An urge to unplug the
clock on the opposite side of the bed was overwhelming; She just wanted to go
back to bed. But as soon as her bare feet hit the floor Whit’s eyes fluttered
open. Still only semi-conscious, he rolled to his other side, coming face to
face with that unflippable hourglass.
Sadness overcame the joy he had felt at falling asleep in Izi’s arms the
previous night. Maintaining composure, Whit twisted his body once more; yet
found himself greeted by the stare of those pitiful white walls.
Hiding her head between her arms,
Izi found herself weeping upon bitter linoleum floor of the bathroom. How
selfish of me, she thought over and over, praying her sobs wouldn’t escape the
thin walls. There it was though, another timepiece on the counter, ticking away
her happiness.
Then she had a strange epiphany on
that bathroom floor. She pulled herself up by the towel rack and hurried back
to the bedroom. The bed was empty, sheets scattered about the room, and Whit
was nowhere in sight. She searched frantically about the modest apartment,
wishing to share her new resolution, the cure to their coming pain. Then it
dawned on her, it was March 9, and she had lost an hour.
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