Heart Attack

Morning sounds like birdies chirping. A short but restful night's sleep. A few little slivers of light are peeking in beyond your blackout curtains.

Sometimes I hear your alarm as you get up to go to work. Not today.
Sometimes your morning preparation stirs me. Not today.

I look over and see your head asleep on the pillow. Strange- there's light outside. I check my clock- it's 5:45am. You are late.
I don't want to wake you if you have called in sick.
I stay in bed for a few seconds, I don't hear you breathing. I sit still for what seems like hours, but still hear nothing. 30 seconds later I get up.

Walking to the bathroom, my head is pounding. I don't dare look back. Long minutes of turmoil in the lavatory and I think I'm ready.
Walking out- I crumble to the fear, turning the other way, I embrace the wall.
Walking up and down the hall, I can't bring myself to touch you.
Walking to the window, I see that your car is gone. Your purse too.

Morning sounds like exhaustion, having aged a decade in five minutes.