It is 8:00am.  Everything is silent and light is just starting to push through the shades in the windows.  The alarm bursts to life blaring out for everyone to hear.  He rolls on the bed, bringing his hand down onto the snooze button.  With his hand suspended halfway back to the bed he is snoring again.  Ten minutes pass and the alarm again tries to bring life to the world.  Another well placed slap pushes it into silence again.  Finally, the 3rd time, at 8:30 the alarm blasts into life and the hand does not push the snooze button.  This time, the hand comes more tentatively down on the off button.

 There is a moment where time seems to freeze.  There is no movement or sound.  It is as if in turning off the alarm clock he turned off everything.  It feels as if an eternity passes with nothing except watching and waiting.  The reality is that only a few moments pass.  Finally he pulls himself up and out of bed.  It is either pitiful or funny in a way.  He is a young man, young enough to barely have stubble grown on his face after his night of sleep.  His movements seem to belong to someone much older.  He acts like someone’s grandfather pulling himself out of bed in.

 He acts as if he should be in the geriatric ward.  His shoulders droop forward forcing an awkward hunch in his back.  It is almost as if he should be holding on to a walker so his upper body weight would be supported by his arms.  As he walks his knees seem to not bent, but move only from his hips.  His slow shuffle carries him into the kitchen where he turns on the coffee pot.  He doesn’t bother to make new coffee.  There is no need for that, he just reheats the half pot left over from yesterday.  He turns on the TV for the morning Sportscenter, but doesn’t watch it.  Instead he goes to the bathroom and gets into the shower.

 Ten minutes later he comes out of the bathroom a transformed person.  He no longer moves like someone four times his age.  Now his movements are quick and precise, almost hurrying.  He glances at the coffee, but decides it is not ready yet.  He goes back to the bathroom and finds a t-shirt and jeans from the piles of clothes scattered on the floor.  He dresses quickly and glances in the mirror to see if he looks clean.  He reaches into the pants pocket and pulls out a half empty pack of cigarettes and his lighter.

 He pulls a cigarette out of the pack and tries to light it.  He rolls his thumb down the lighter to get a spark, but can get no flame from the lighter.  He shakes it and tries again, still nothing.  “Fuck,” he yells and tosses the lighter on the floor.  He goes back to the kitchen and looks around.  He turns on a stove burner and pours a cup of coffee.  He watches the burner until it starts to glow red, then he leans in and uses the stove to light his cigarette.

 He turns off the stove and sees the clock is now showing 8:50 am.  “God damn,” he says and runs out the door.  In the car he is scary, driving with the accelerator to the floor anytime there is an opening, the front bumper pulling within inches of cars in front before an opening in the other lane allows him to dart over and press the accelerator again.  He spends nearly as much time with his finger up and out the window as he does with his hand on the wheel.  He has to be at work at 9:00am, and if he does not hurry then he is going to be late again.  He has already gotten in trouble for being late twice this month and a third time might make them decide to let him go.

 At 8:59 he jumps out of his car and runs into the building.  He glances at the clock on the wall and it looks like his is going to make it just in time.  When he finishes clocking in his time card shows 9:05.  “Fuck, god damn,” he whispers, “this is just going to be one of those days.”  Before his first call comes in he starts trying to think of an excuse to leave.  He could say that someone died or he is sick anything just to be able to turn around and go home.  He hates being here, sitting in this little cubicle listening to people whine and complain about nothing.

 They call to complain.  They call and yell and scream.  Some of the old ones call to just talk.  He sits quietly and listens.  No, that isn’t exactly true.  He sits and plays solitaire.  He goes through the motions, he pretends to listen, he makes small noises like uh huh, and the occasional yes, but he doesn’t really listen anymore.  What the hell, why should he listen? They don’t pay him enough to care about these people calling in all day.

 It is 9:30am and he starts to watch the door, this is his favorite part of the day.  She comes through the door and he has to force himself not to stare.  He fights the urge, but fails. No matter how hard he tries, he always stares anyway.  She is wearing a skirt that falls just to her knees, as she walks it moves with her showing a little bit more of her long beautiful legs.  Her tight t-shirt pulls across her chest leaving little to the imagination.  Continuing up we come to what he is unable to ever look away from, her face.  Framed by dark brown hair, big cheeks appear so soft and smooth.  An always-smiling mouth has the perfect contrast of pink lips and white teeth.  Best of all are her deep green eyes that always seem to sparkle.

 As she walks by, she smiles at him.  Even gives a small nod her head.  He smiles back, but doesn’t say anything.  He thinks about, he plans on it.  He has come up with hundreds of ways to say hi and try to start a conversation, but when the time comes all he can ever do is smile.  He loves her, but has never spoken to her.  The time has just never been right.  He decides that today is going to be the day.  Before he leaves work he is going to find a way to talk to her and invite her out for drinks.

 He imagines her being excited.  She says that she has been waiting for him to ask.  They go out and drink and dance the night away until last call is announced.  After that they go back to his apartment and watch the middle of the night cartoons.  They fall asleep together on the couch and when morning comes they have breakfast together.  Soon they are living together and considering marriage and starting a family.  And for the first time in his life everything is perfect.

 He thinks about this possible future all day and time speeds up for him.  He realizes that it is time to go home.  It is now or never, he will go talk to her now.  He looks down the row and sees that she is talking to one of her friends.  He hesitates for a moment before walking out of the building thinking that she will never say yes if he interrupts her conversation.  On the way home he cannot stop thinking that he blew it.  He had his chance to try to make everything perfect and he did not take it.  He didn’t do what he had to do and would be spending another night at home alone with no possibility of change.

 He stops at the liquor store for a bottle of Vodka.  As soon as he gets home he starts to drink.  Finally the thoughts of failure begin fade away.  Every pull from the bottle burns through him and pushes all negative feeling away.  He finishes the bottle and closes his eyes so he can feel himself spinning.   As the he fades into sleep he thinks, “None of this is real, nothing more then an empty cycle.”