• Leave work.
    Come home.
    Make dinner.
    Eat.
    Watch television for an hour.
    Brush my teeth.
    Put on my pajamas.
    Read that book that’s been sitting on my nightstand for a month.
    Sleep.
    I wish I had a more interesting life, I thought as I went through my daily routine again.

    Wake up.
    Get dressed.
    Eat breakfast.
    Take a shower.
    Brush my teeth.
    Wash my face.
    Brush my hair.
    Leave for work.
    Work from seven A.M to six thirty P.M.
    Leave work.
    Screeching tires.
    Loud crash.
    Sirens.
    Severe pain.
    Darkness.
    A tall, hooded figure, his hand extended to me.
    I take it.

    Wake up.
    Get dressed.
    Eat breakfast.
    Take a shower.
    Brush my teeth.
    Wash my face.
    Brush my hair.
    Leave for work.
    Work from seven A.M to six thirty P.M.
    Leave work.
    Come home.
    Make dinner.
    Eat.
    Watch television for an hour.
    Brush my teeth.
    Put on my pajamas.
    Read that book that’s been sitting on my nightstand for a month.
    Sleep.
    I don’t do any of these things anymore.
    I don’t need to.