The ceiling welcomed my sight each time I opened my eyes. I am not an early riser but I managed to get up early today. I needed to catch the first bus this morning to see my folks.
I groaned and stared hard at the ceiling. Until that moment, it had never occured to me that the once smooth and clear ceiling of my bedroom apartment is now parched, cracked at the center and had taken after the color of burnt bond paper.
A feeling of discontentment swept over my system: it reminded me too much of a relationship that once was–fading and deteriorating. After that moment of epiphany, I decided to go back to sleep.
I could always take the next bus.
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Edit (08142006): After bloghopping, I found my friend’s entry, Waiting for a Ride. Seems like a fitting continuation to this entry from another person’s perspective.
