This morning

This morning my alarm beeped me obediently awake at 8am. Weighed down by a late night, I fumbled another half an hour onto the clock, and retreated into my warm cocoon to find myself clinging to a cliff face above the emerald green sea. Each new ledge revealed another hidden base of the secret rebellion, and a woman who was and was not my mother held a gun against my temple to ensure I had not been followed by Them.
The second time my alarm went off, I had no excuses, and I slid from my bed to let the shower steam the night's presence from my skin. Dressed and drowsy I tromped upstairs to my morning ritual of kettle and tea leaves and my big mug with red dots on the side. The familiar movements drew me closer to wakefulness, and finally the taste of heat and sugar shooed the sleep from my mind.
I fumbled still unfamiliar keys into my new locks, and left under the cheerful shelter of my red umbrella. The cafe under the uni yielded banana bread which did for breakfast and I sat at last in a seat in an unfamiliar classroom, early and nervous.