James Peter Alden opened his eyes under the pillow. He wasn’t sure if he’d slept, but what snatches of rest he managed were troubled. The curtains did little to keep the light at bay, and grey though it was, it still filled the room with unrelenting brightness. He vaguely remembers losing his tenth game of online chess in a row, somewhere around six am. He was just staring through the screen moving pieces around randomly. It was somehow ironic. He felt like he’d been out all night, only not drunk or high. More was the pity. He felt something else entirely.
Working night shifts had taught him to cocoon himself with pillows over his head. It was the only way of keeping the day out, short of wearing one of those eye mask things, and he’d be damned if he was going to do that. He pressed the little snooze button on his travel alarm and tried to cram eight hours sleep into five minutes. For half an hour he snoozed at five minute intervals, before finally giving up and dragging his sorry frame into the shower.
Gazing at the cold tiles, he didn’t feel the tepid water, or care for it. Promising things had gone sour and the only course of action left was to leave. He couldn’t quite fathom it, because everything had started surprisingly well. He settled on the lukewarm thought that it was nice to have known her, and there were plenty more fish in the sea. Billions in fact. Count them. Yet he was just looking for one. Well. Maybe three. An hour later he was somewhere new, and with that came endless possibilities. And to hell with it he guffaws; she didn’t like Batman anyway.
Checkmate
James Peter Alden opened his eyes under the pillow. He wasn’t sure if he’d slept, but what snatches of rest he managed were troubled. The curtains did little to keep the light at bay, and grey though it was, it still filled the room with unrelenting brightness. He vaguely remembers losing his tenth game of online chess in a row, somewhere around six am. He was just staring through the screen moving pieces around randomly. It was somehow ironic. He felt like he’d been out all night, only not drunk or high. More was the pity. He felt something else entirely.
Working night shifts had taught him to cocoon himself with pillows over his head. It was the only way of keeping the day out, short of wearing one of those eye mask things, and he’d be damned if he was going to do that. He pressed the little snooze button on his travel alarm and tried to cram eight hours sleep into five minutes. For half an hour he snoozed at five minute intervals, before finally giving up and dragging his sorry frame into the shower.
Gazing at the cold tiles, he didn’t feel the tepid water, or care for it. Promising things had gone sour and the only course of action left was to leave. He couldn’t quite fathom it, because everything had started surprisingly well. He settled on the lukewarm thought that it was nice to have known her, and there were plenty more fish in the sea. Billions in fact. Count them. Yet he was just looking for one. Well. Maybe three. An hour later he was somewhere new, and with that came endless possibilities. And to hell with it he guffaws; she didn’t like Batman anyway.