On one end of a beige couch
There it was again, the unsettling sensation of being a stranger in a place she had known for years. This feeling often came in the mornings as she was coming back from the place of dreams. As she floated to light beyond her eyes, she would feel her spirit resist. Crossing the frontier was hard. But she never had any choice. Something always pushed her across. She would open her eyes and take in the familiar strangeness looking back at her from where she lay. The lime green plastic cup quarter-filled with three-day-old water, the fitness watch lying on its side, the pile of books waiting to be read, the off-white wall watching closely. She would realise that her throat was parched, reach her hand out for the lime-green plastic cup and take a gulp of water that tasted like her present. Stale.