Time and time again

Some people fall into a routine because they can't do it any other way.

The piercing, repetitive noise that thundered through his shallow sleep began to make it's way into his waking mind. It must have been wailing for at least a full minute until he realised what was going on: dawn had come. He found it strange that for something that happened on a daily basis he had trouble recognizing it most of the time. Even though it was November and the sun wouldn't raise it's ugly head for at least an hour, the furniture in the bedroom could be easily identified with the scarce street light that fell through the worn out drapes, at least 10 years past their due date. The dresser with only some cologne and after shave, no jewels or beauty case on top of it, small warderobe and a chair with his work clothes carelessly thrown on to. His bed was only slept on on one side.

40 years spent with no one by his side. Sure, he had a few romantic flings here and there, but they never stuck with him for more than a few months. Over time he had stopped wondering why they all took of. It wasn't because he wanted to preserve himself, but because he'd given up on the idea of finding somebody to spend his life with.

He felt a light, but noticeable pounding in his head. This was quite unusual for him because over the years he had crafted the a routine that was pretty sturdy. Next to the bed stood a big pile of bottled water and a couple of boxes of sugar waffles. Before he put his head down he ate a one of those waffles. He didn't eat them because he was hungry of because he felt like eating one. They gave him a dry mouth, which made it more easy to chug the two bottles of water that were the cornerstone of his routine. The only downside it was that he had to get up up somewhere between 3 and 4 am to take a leak, but usually he was still drunk enough to really register it all. It also happened that, when he was really shitfaced, he didn't wake up at all and ended up wetting the bed, but that didn't happen too often, fortunately.

His hand felt for the nightstand where under normal circumstances he placed his glasses, but he didn't feel them anywhere. He searched for them more frantically, and in his careless actions knocked the alarm clock to the floor. The crash had killed the buzz, at least something good came out of it. In his head the day had already gone down the drain. He had to make his way downstairs and find his prescription sunglasses, in order to search for the glasses he had lost in his drunken stupor last night.

While he dragged himself along the corridor, he kicked something and heard it slide and bang against the wall. He got on his knees, felt around and found his glasses. He put them on, and noticed that he cracked the left glass. Better than nothing, he thought, and shrugged it off. He shuffled into the bathroom, took a look in the mirror and sighed deeply. Puffy eyes, giving everything away about last night. A three day beard, testifying about his abandoned hopes. He splashed his face with cold water and sprayed some deodorant. The only thing he did properly is brush his teeth. If he came into work with alcohol on his breath daily, they'd start suspecting something and he'd rather pretend everything is alright.

He put on his work clothes. They started to smell a bit with a work week's worth of sweat, but it was only thursday so they would have to make do for another two days. There was always the smell of the work place, dust and cardboard boxes. He never woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, the way other people do sometimes. Because there was no one to turn it on for him, he had thought about installing a timer to do the trick, but he regularly slept through his alarm which meant drinking cold coffee. He couldn't risk wasting one his daily pleasures, so he left it at that. Breakfast consisted of a couple of slices of yesterday's bread, dipped into coffee, to hide the staleness. 

7:12 AM. Two more minutes before he had to leave. He grabbed his shoes, put them on and started for the door. The first few steps were painful, his feet had to readjust to the ruggedness. When he got home at night, walking around on bare feet hurt a bit. He pulls the front door shut, a sudden gust of wind bites his cheeks. The day has begun.