Your alarm goes off.
You hit snooze.
Your alarm goes off.
You hit snooze.
Your alarm goes off.
You hit snooze.
Your alarm goes off.
You get up.
Your face in the bathroom mirror has puffy eyes and deep shadows.
Your jaw aches.
You shower.
You start getting dressed.
You pour a glass of juice.
You drink.
You finish getting dressed.
You shamble around the corner to the free wifi. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.
You check your email.
You read your sites.
You shamble back to your nest.
You put dinner together. Instant noodles and sundry. Again.
You do the dishes.
You put the washing away.
You brush your teeth.
You walk to work.
You sit at your work station for eight hours, processing reports of sexual assault, family violence, drug trafficking, stalking, assault, and people who are generally worse off than you are.
You plan to write this read that dance naked in front of the windows when you get home.
You walk home.
You close the door.
You sit. Sometimes on the bathroom step. Sometimes on the bed. Sometimes on the floor.
You cry.
You cry.
You cry until you retch.
Then you cry some more.
You stop long enough to brush your teeth.
You turn off the lights.
You undress.
You crawl into bed.
You cry.
You cry.
You put on a movie. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.
You watch the clock count down the hours till sunrise.
You’re too tired to cry.
You’re too tired to sleep.
You hear the garbage trucks at three am.
You toss.
You turn.
You sleep.

Your alarm goes off.