She wakes up to find her hair in her mouth. She gingerly lifts a finger to her lips and slowly removes her mouth guard. She stretches her arms back over the pillow and then gently, delicately, removes each of her earplugs. She yawns and sits up to find her water glass empty. Fuck, she thinks to herself. Her head falls back on the pillow and she stares at a white wall. She has to pee. She stumbles to the toilet, sits down, and stares at a white wall. Once she’s pulled on her t-shirt and yoga pants, she glides down the white hallway to the white kitchen. “Good morning,” she whispers to no one in particular as her index finger gingerly pushes down on the power button of the electric kettle. As she waits for the water to boil, she gazes out to the living room, to the white walls and the wooden floors. The floor is so hard, she thinks to herself, and the walls are so… big. As she dips her tea bag in and out of the scorching hot mug, she sighs. This house is so empty I can’t wait to be alone with it. Later that morning, she is finally alone with the house. She traces her finger along the back of the temporary couch, and thinks to herself, did I ship the ottoman or did we put that in storage? She opens her laptop to check email. Her breath stops short. There is a message from the relocation consultant. There is an update on your sea shipment. She moans and lets her eyes rest on the white wall. Enlighten me then.
