Jennie's room bloomed with pale pink light. Overhead, I could hear my sister's soft breaths coming and going. I checked my delicate silver watch hanging off the edge of the nightstand. Five-thirty.
This isn't the first time I've barely had any sleep. Something in me is broken--it's as if a
part of my brain is unable to shut down.
I want to let out a groan of frustration, but I don't want to wake up my sister in hibernation.
Ever since my old room was converted into our dad's "home office," I've had to move all my things into Jennie's room. And yet I still call it "Jennie's room."
Something about this room is alienating. I've spent most of my life living in my own space and breathing in the dusty, rosy smell of the room across the hall.
Franklin, Jennie's elderly turtle, blinks up at me from his terrarium. So my roommates include Jennie, the creature frozen in winter's sleep, and a turtle.
I slide my legs over the bed and watch as the sun slowly dips over the horizon. I have to admit--the view is far more gorgeous in here. The room fills with yolk-yellow light, and I am frozen in the beauty that is my new room.
Maybe this isn't so bad.
Or maybe, just maybe, I'm learning to accept that this is what my life will be every morning. I wake up way too early just so I can be here on time for the sunrise. It's not a bad way to start the day, huh?
Jennie snores softly. Should I wake her up? Would she even care? This is a view she had seen thousands of mornings before, what would one more sunrise matter?
So it's worth it. To open my eyes and look out as the night fades into day, as my copper-brown skin is awash in gold.
Tears rush to my eyes all at once. It's overwhelming to realize that this bitter part of growing up is still filled with capability and joy. I might not have the Barbie Dreamhouse in my old room, but just seeing this is enough. I am enough.
My legs buckle under me as I struggle to get up. I can't help but stare out the window as I make my way out the door. Without thinking, I rush through the front door and onto the front lawn. I'm still wearing my pajama shorts and my hair is a mess, but I take everything in at once. It's nearing six a.m. and the neighborhood is still softly asleep. And I am here, admiring what they don't
The following challenges were completed during the writing exercise:
Begin Start typing to begin
Prop Include a wristwatch
Event Your character hasn't slept in days
Words Reach 50 words
Letter Use the letter B
Words Reach 100 words
Event Aliens invade
Prop Include a turtle
Letter Use the letter W
Words Reach 200 words
Words Reach 300 words
Words Reach 400 words
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