Mundanity is about exploring the mundane in detail, finding life, story and inspiration.

Their eyes peeled open like a budding flower. Lazily throwing a hand to the side, their fingertips clattered along the wooden surface, almost knocking over the glass of stale water that had been sat on their bedside for 4 nights in a row. Continuing its search, the hand brushed over metallic loose change, toppling neat piles like a giant would topple buildings. Onto a glass surface, but not the one it searches for, the hand glides across it leaving an oily smear across an already grimy lens. Finally, the hand reaches its destination and the room is illuminated by an artificial blue light, blinding them suddenly and causing those flowers to close to a squint.

03:00. Three in the morning. Several notifications tussle for their attention but the unwelcome light show is rudely interrupted by a sudden pressure. Building stronger and tighter, they know that she is calling. The legs join in and the pressure intensifies, nature calls, the bathroom awaits. Leaving the warm cocoon created by a sea of silk and body heat, the stagnant night air crawls across their skin, rushing up their legs as they stand, tickling each hair upright. The hard floor is abrasive against the soles of their feet, dry and rough from work and age. Each step forward a stiff and silent wrench.

Cocoon broken, their body haphazardly floats to the bathroom. In a graceful yet drunk dance, the exhausted body and mind whirls its way through the cold air towards the toilet. Pre-empting the jarring light, their fingers reach out for plastic. Muscle memory guides the arm, the hand and finally the fingers to a place already known. Impaired by a post slumber haze, the fingers first crash against the rough painted wall before finding the smooth plastic light switch. With a single click, the automatic light is disabled. Pushing past the door the all-consuming darkness begins to reveal its secrets. Eyes adjust, the porcelain world comes into smokey view.

Lowering down with the pinpoint precision of a surgeon’s scalpel, skin finally meets cold, hard seat. Icicles pierce the skin, a cold sinks deep into the legs and spreads fast like a venom, shuddering at speed up the back and through the spine. The muscles pulling the hairs taught reignite and a rippling sensation travels through the entire surface of their skin. With this shock quickly comes relief, the pressure is burst, the body and mind are satiated. A wet warmth funnels out of the body at speed, crashing hard against the recently bleached surface. The stream rushes and sound follows, the body’s hot expulsion followed by steam. Warm and cold air intermingle as scent floods the air. The stale night now filled with the sour smell of the yellow fluid, their nose retracts like a rabbits.

Empty, drained, relieved. Sat on the cold toilet seat, the journey back begins. They rise from their perch and their hand blindly grasps for the flush. Hand crashes with metal, a few failed jerks and finally the water flows. The final turn causes the hurricane to begin. Violent waters rage in the small sea that dominates the bowl, waterfalls come crashing down and the sound is as violent as the image it conjures. An over aggressive palm slams down onto the plastic, causing more gel to spew out than necessary. They rub their hands in a slow, silent motion that lathers the soap in every direction. Great big spheres form and threaten to consume their hands entirely, sud after sud creep up the hand, until, in one jarring motion they vanish. Like a fire smothered by wind and water the hands move under the tap and nothing remains of the ever-growing world of bubbles. The cold water against the hands, a new yet familiar sensation that once again shocks their system. The seemingly never-ending cold sweeps into the final extremities of their body.

Deed done, they wonder slowly into a slumber that takes hold in their newly formed cocoon. Wrap after wrap of cool silk caresses their skin, as if made for their sole body and nothing else. The cold night air is barred off, protected by layers of fabric that repel the shiver. Like a wood fire beaten and bullied by the wind, a calm comes over them and it reignites. Fighting off the deep, dark cold that has infected the body their internal fire spreads throughout. The heart beats the warmth to every inch and the cocoon is finally home again. With the journey over, they finally fall back into a deep slumber. A notification illuminates the phone, out of view of their protected gaze. 03:10am.

Posted by:Sami Sumaria

I like to write about anything and everything.

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