Inner Workings

It's the beginning of autumn, the air crisp and cool against my skin. The sky is usually a dreary grey that contrasts the bright red and yellow hues atop the trees. It's beautiful, the explosion of colour in the world's yearly cycle. 

The slight nip in the air causes my nose to redden and my lungs to wheeze, as it does each year.

I lay in bed, comforted by the warmth of my duvet and the company of my four-legged friend.

In these brief moments of quiet, there's nothing but peace. No hum of a distant car, nor the harsh words of an argument nearby. Truly this is peace. I fall into slumber, with the stars shining brightly.

There's a bang, followed by shouting. I stir, open an eye to be met with darkness and quiet. Odd, but not uncommon.

Then there is a voice right beyond my door, sounding panicked. Sounding frightened. In my sleep-filled haze, I cannot make out the words. It's nothing but noise to my ears, and as I close my eyes once more the door is thrown open and I am shaken awake.

"Where is your inhaler?!" Cries my brother, with hardened eyes filled with fear.

I'm groggy from sleep and mental exhaustion but I fetch the item, not exactly reading into his tone of voice or his expression. I pass the inhaler into his hand, not sure as to why he would need it. Only when he puts the item into his jacket pocket that I register he is dressed to head out.

Before I can question where he is going at this time of night, he raises his mobile phone to his ear and speaks. "Okay, I've got it." That is all he says as he hangs up the phone and darts out the door.

It's strange. This doesn't usually happen.

I can't say for sure what was my driving force, or rather lack-there-of, that has me return to my bed. Not one single alarmed thought buzzing around as I drift off to sleep.

I recon I sleep for another twenty minutes before I am startled awake again, this time by the phone.