Her eyes open prepared for sunlight
Still a black cloak remains
No position is comfortable on this bed
The body aches as though this mattress is a slab of led


The alarm tricks her and remains silent
A bolt of fear strikes her eyes staring at the lateness
A hundred things to do
Now is the time chaos will ensue


All the cars on the road are working against her
Cyclists laugh
Pedestrians shake their head
Her stomach rumbles pleading to be fed.


She forgets the directions told to her
Round and round she goes
She wishes she could start the day again
She closes her eyes for a moment of zen


Destination reached
It has just gone nine
A sigh of relief as she parks
Her interview is due to start at quarter past


The waiting room is a chamber of torture
The ticking clock counting down her demolition
A man then steps outside with a glint of sorrow
He tells her she has come on the wrong day, her interview is in fact tomorrow

​ -hs