Last day of our first prompt!
Prompt: Take the first sentence from a favorite book and make it the first sentence of your post.
For this prompt, today I’ve chosen The Wise Man’s Fear by Patrick Rothfuss.
Dawn was coming. I stared up at the ceiling, willing my eyes to stay focused on the frosting swirls in the plaster and not look at the clock. Closing my eyes, I tried not to calculate how many hours I’d been laying here or how much sleep I would get before my alarm if I magically managed to drift off in the next 30 seconds. I rolled over, away from the soft glow of my alarm clock, closing my eyes and counting. One… two… three… all the way to ten, then start over at one.
The trick worked when I was a kid. Eventually, I would slip into a sort of trance, mind calming down, the noise dimming as everything focused inward on the counting. I drifted off quietly, not even realizing I’d fallen asleep until the blaring of my alarm clock woke me. I groaned, rolling over, wishing I hadn’t put the alarm so far away and that the snooze button froze time so I could get a decent night of sleep for once. No such luck.
Cold tile greeted me in the bathroom, the fluorescent light harsh and unforgiving as a furtive glance at the mirror confirmed I look like a zombie. There aren’t enough showers in the world to wash away the sickly pallor deep-rooted insomnia leaves. I try anyway.
The office was quiet, lights flickering from wiring well over 45 years old. Some of the students found it unsettling, but the random pattern of the flickering always soothed me. It gave me something to focus on, to occupy the back of my mind so I could get work done. It was a distraction, and I love being distracted.