An alarm clock hit the wall, ringing out one last vindictive time as the springs and gears flew in a million and one directions. The sad thing, James thought, was this wasn’t the first clock to receive this fate. Three more lay in the waste bin in the usually kempt, but now disorderly kitchen. Rolling over to the side of the bed where life was paused, blissfully frozen in time, last night’s, or was it Monday's, medicinal beer bottle rolled off the rumpled sheets bouncing off the floor before settling and wandering under the bed. “Dammit.” James exhaled, eyes creaking open questioning the desideratum for him to actually get out of bed and leave the small cold comfort of his studio.
Rolling back to the place where time still ticked by in his bed he eyed the bathroom door as it lay opened, welcoming, no, urging him to remove himself from his current and preferred state of residence to join the clean linen and warm water in the bathroom. Growling as his arms reluctantly pushed his weight up, hoping to scare the bathroom door into submission and shutting, he found he wasn’t intimidating enough to the wooden planks and had to succumb himself. Looking over at where he had meant to put everything together nicely, James found his crumpled dress uniform on the floor, tie still tied and his belt still in the pants. Picking up a set of hangers, he adjusted them and took them into the bathroom with him, hoping the steam would do a little to help. As much as Captain Ridley did not want to do anything but slip from existence, he owed this much to her, especially as much as she enjoyed the uniform he hated wearing.
- Samual Curtis
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