The acrid smell of smoke wakes me at dawn. The bed is on fire again. How irritating. I twist and leap out the side of the bed, staggering across the room for the fire extinguisher. In so doing I trip over a bag which has been strategically placed between bed and far wall. I just manage to keep my footing. Good thing too, I would have fallen on the knife block which has somehow found its way from kitchen to bedroom. The orange flames reveal that the knives have been reversed, so they are wedged blade upwards. Funny that.
Naturally the fire extinguisher is missing. Unphased, I grab the one I hid in my wardrobe and choking on the black smoke which is starting to fill the room, I extinguish the blaze with ruthless efficiency.
You rise from the easy chair where you have been sitting watching me and pull the curtains open letting in the soft light of the rising sun.
"That's another mattress ruined," I complain cheerfully and reach for the glass of water by the bed. I raise it to you in a toast; "better luck next time!" I take a long grateful drink. I only realise my mistake when I see your lips curl into a beatific smile.
No comments:
Post a Comment