Your eyes open, blink once, twice, as they adjust to the light. The ceiling comes into focus and your body is bending, upwards, away from the warmth. Bare feet on rough carpet, rough hand on cold doorknob, you walk to the kitchen. A pan finds your hand, then the stove. An egg finds your hand, cracks against an edge, finds the stove. A hiss reaches your ears while the scent drifts into your nose. Fork to plate to mouth to plate to mouth to plate to mouth to sink. Bare feet on rough carpet, rough hand on cold doorknob, you walk to the bathroom. Pajamas to cheap linoleum, bare feet to dirty tub, cold water to bare skin. Towel to body, paste to brush, brush to teeth, your gums are bleeding again. Itchy clothes to damp skin, comb to hair, blocky shoes to reluctant feet, clop clop on the hardwood. Rough hand on doorknob, rough hand off doorknob, clop clop back to the counter, sharp keys in rough hand, clop clop to the door, rough hand on doorknob. Stomp down the stairs, click unlocks car, rumble-purr engine starts. Car goes to work, carries you with it. Other cars carrying other yous to other works all around. Work finds you, your desk finds you, confines you. Click clack, the keyboard finds your fingers. Clomp clomp, your boss finds you, paper finds your eyes, too close to focus, harsh question finds your ears. Click clacks stop, dull murmuring stops, all eyes find you. The answer isn’t even looking for you.
You find your finger, the one in the middle, you find your words, the four letter ones, and you find the door. You unlock your car, start it, you drive your car to your home. You begin to happen. No longer will the world happen to you.