Moving on, yet stationary.

My prompt here was 'half an hour before sunrise', and in its transference to the page, I realised once more, my deep-seated obsession. It says a lot that even the meagre act which follows sends my mind on journeys far and varied, and my pulse rocketing towards the stars:

Half an hour before the sun awakes, she rises out of bed, digits tingling with half-asleep anticipation. The half open window permits the scent and sounds of the street below to permeate her thoughts. The gentle hush of resolute pedestrians, completing the routines of daily grind; hauling produce from street to stall; traipsing to work, or school, or home. The slight but pungent smell of undiscarded garbage, of freshly frying breakfast noodles and roti, donuts dipped in oily sugar grains, and coffee, thick and sweet. In her air-con deprived room, the airing-cupboard stench of fresh-made bed fuses with dry perspiration; it already coats her skin.

She pads across the floor with graceful ease, noting the rough-worn carpet beneath her feet as she slides into en-suite. Forcing the anticipation from her lungs in concentrated exhalation, she steadies her slightly shaking self against the sink.

Yanking the shower taps to their fullest flow, the small room fills with the fresh tang of an icy flow, and as she steps beneath it, its’ constant rhythm bouncing off her skin, the heaviness of slumber drains away, and a clarity slots into place.

Quickly, she halts the flow, and envelopes her skin in towelling. Returning to the hot, damp room, she sits upon the bed to dress; long, thin-fabric pants, and a cotton tee, the sleeves of which teased her elbows as she moved. Pulling on thick socks, which gave her comfort even now, despite the heat, she stood, and hastily gathered her things from bedside cabinet and floor, onto the bed beside her sack. Catching her pulse race once more with the importance, she pushes the excitement past her tongue into the air, almost expecting steam and fire to gush from deep inside. Dizzy for a moment, she’s released as she inhales, deliberately slow. Glancing around the room, before she moves, she makes a mental tally. No need to check the drawers, or wardrobe; they were never used.

On her knees for confirmation; nothing beneath the bed, save her trusted boots.

Her watch announces pre-determined time, incessantly, until she subdues it with her other hand. Consciously unflustered, she lurches back into the bathroom for a final check, and snatches with a laugh, a wayward toothbrush; she’d have missed it later.

With vigilance, she unbuckled the lid of her sack, and straightened the top, ruffled contents before loading last night’s clothes, and toiletries inside. Guidebook, pad, pens and camera slotted into the lower, easy access art, and wallet into hood pocket, hidden from view but easy to reach. Bearing down with outstretched palm, the clothes compressed an inch or so, and she deftly pulled the straps to keep it so. Once again, her life was held in canvas, right before her eyes.

A second hail from the watch upon her wrist came right on queue as she pulled her lightly mudded boots out from their hideaway, appreciating their companionship as she encased her woollen feet in the gentle leather.

Standing in her fresh-protected feet, a new excitement welled from thighs, all the way to the woozy portion of her forehead; this time she did not catch it, for there was no need. Skimming the room once more, categorising memory inside her head, she all but closed the window, leaving just a crack of air. Hoisting sack onto one shoulder – giving only slightly ‘neath it’s weight, she pulled the door behind her, sighing at its final click.

Trotting down the seeming-endless stairs, she allowed part of her mind to wander through the memories, in great sad joy, whilst watching each uneven step pass beneath her feet. Sun blazed welcomingly through the slightly open door which led onto the quiet street, but she paused, handing in her key, and exchanging hearty words of credit. They, too, offered suggestion and encouragement, which she knew, in purposeful uncertainty, that she didn’t need.

Stepping out from air-conned lobby into the fresh, cool breeze and skin-worshipping sun, and waving her goodbye, she breathed in the joy of all that was then, and now, and all that was to come, and headed down the hill.