Reclaiming The Void
I am stretched out on my belly at an odd angle, lying across my bed, an arm over one side and my feet hanging over the other. My head is killing me and I am confused. I close my eyes for a moment, somehow forgetting where I am, again, then I warily focus to rediscover my alarm clock, my bedside telephone…the James Patterson mystery that I’ve been reading for the past few nights. I painfully roll my eyes up to my plantation shutters—the brightness sneaking through. I recognize them, too.
It’s only when I roll over onto my back that I grasp how sore my body really is. I feel like I’ve gone three rounds with Chuck Liddell. The arm I was lying on is a rock. I lift it with my other, and let it go. It crashes painfully onto my chest. While I let it lay there, refueling on sensation, I search the vast emptiness of my most recent memories to try and discover what has happened to bring me to this moment…