Still Awake [An Original Flash Fiction]
Three seconds. Three seconds between each drop. The roof is leaking in the hall. I can hear the drip-drops falling, one, two, three, "d'loop." I stop counting drops after reaching "d'loop, nine." It's 4 am, do you know where your raindrop has been?
A movie plays on a beat up digital box—unwatched—while I click link-after-link on page-after-page, seeking, searching, going where ever the cyber trail leads. A glance at the TV tells me the movie still plays. I scour, dig, drive deeper into interconnectivity.
News from Malaysia, tweets from Santa Barbara, memes on my FB from friends across the U.S.A., a post from an anonymous commentator questioning my opinion of Tony Alamo. I don't think that commentator was a member of Anonymous. If so, that's one relationship I wouldn't trust. Anyone diggin' ole Alamo must not remember that last stands end in slaughter. That's why they're LAST.
4:10 am. Still the drops fall from the ceiling. The sound changed, it's muffled now. I put a towel down. I keep thinking I should have used a bucket. The drip-drops would kill me, I can't take the d'loops, those mind numbing drops. Finally, I can focus wholly on surfing, cruising, clicking, browsing youtube vids.
The movie plays. The rain falls muffled. I wish I could fall—asleep—but, that ain't happenin'. There's just one more one more that I want to...
Thought I fell asleep, didn't you? I should have left a message: BRB Tea.
I just wrung the towel out in the bathtub, cold grey water oozed between my fingertips before swirling round the drain. I don't know what those raindrops rolled in before they altered the odor of generic cuddle fresh. I killed the stench on my hands with lemon fresh and put another towel down.
My tea got cold. I forgot about it—again. 30 seconds later I sip warm tea. Microwaves. Is it my imagination or does stove-boiled actually taste better?
Every time I think of sleep, the thought passes instantly, I gaze on into the screen. My eyes blur, my neck aches, my head buzzes with the vastness of cyberspace. I don't know that I'm an insomniac, for all I know I could be cyber-addict, either way, I'm not sleeping.