25 Hour Watch

Charlie awoke stunned.
Once again, the brazened beeping of his alarm had shaken him from his slumber.

Groaning, Charlie made a muffled slur directed at alarm clocks everywhere, then slammed his palm against the face of his digital ticker.

The routine had started all over again, and Charlie stumbled from room to room and down the hall.

Passed the bathroom, padding the cool surface of the wood floor, Charlie found the coffee maker in somewhere he recognized to be the kitchen.

His groggy eyes discovered all the pieces and his hands somehow knew exactly what to do, and when.

Standing there waiting, Charlie was a zombie, mesmerized and encapsulated, unable to stop staring at the glowing orange light on the surface of the coffee maker; the one that indicated a hot cup of bean-strained water was just moments away.

Breaking his trance, Charlie looked around the kitchen and found the neon clock on his microwave; Charlie was pleased to have an hour left before work, and he thought about breakfast.

The dripping had slowed way down, Charlie listened carefully to the intensity of the accompanying gurgles.

Satisfaction.

Charlie poured.

Cautious sips from his coffee cup, he thought about the day.  Charlie looked out the kitchen window and considered calling in sick to work.

Weighing his options, Charlie considered the factors of playing hooky.  A bowl of cereal, jelly on wheat, and a banana to even everything out, Charlie mulled.

He could climb a mountain, read a book, travel, save the world from certain impending doom, Charlie thought out all the possibilities.

Charlie pondered running away, leaving everything behind.

South America, maybe Canada or Ireland, Charlie could disappear, fall off the grid, find an island somewhere and live like Les Stroud.

Out in the distance, the sun was rising, and Charlie brought himself back to the kitchen, he looked at the clock again and made his decision.

“This is Charles Morris, today is Thursday, July 1st, and I won’t be at work today, please dock my personal pay, I should be back up to full strength tomorrow.”

Charlie disconnected and smiled.

They really made calling into work too easy.

A sudden urge to watch a favorite movie arose from somewhere within Charlie, but since a movie would take up most of the morning on his newly liberated day, Charlie decided Matthew Broderick and Mia Sara would have to wait.

One half of toast and the milk phase of his cereal to go, Charlie finished breakfast and cleaned himself up.

Staring himself in the mirror, Charlie spit and rinsed, and spit and rinsed.

Brown hair, green shirt, khaki pants, and untied shoes, Charlie pulled a jacket up his arm.

He poured a refill of coffee into a traveling mug and wondered where he could crash a parade.  Charlie thought about going to a baseball game, and considered again the airport and South America; somewhere, his island was waiting.

Swinging the front door open, he stepped out into the morning rise, making a final check for the essentials, he found phone, keys, and wallet.

Charlie looked left and squinted against the sun, he looked right and thought about California; Charlie decided to drive north, he had heard people say Canada was beautiful this time of year.