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He existed in a windstorm. Feverishly keeping the lattice work of lies he’d built from violently splintering into the howl.

There were mornings when he felt that things were getting away from him. It wasn’t the first thought. More of a feeling at the first. A slight, unnatural weight to the comforter. A heaviness between the down. Then the pressures of the day would start to seep in gently from the edges of his awakening. Making his nascent consciousness limp and clammy. Unavoidable really. There was so much to consider.

First, was it possible that he had forgotten anything important? Were there details of today’s meeting that hadn’t been considered. Typically he liked to go over an interview moment by moment considering all scenarios. He took the time to create contingency plans for them one by one. How would he react if he was questioned? How much backstory should he provide if he wasn’t challenged at all? Affable, aloof, simple, shrewd?

After the first wave of unsettling awareness would pass he was left with a constellation of other pressing issues. All of these considerations seemed to be unaware that they were not the only points that he was trying to think through. Each one seemed oblivious that if they didn’t hold back at least some of their alarmingly zealous energy that they might overwhelm his desire to be awake and he might simply decide to shut it all out and go back to sleep. No, all of those thoughts selfishly pressed up against the brand new front part of today and kept pushing, pushing. They had no concern for the greater good. Not even a feigned release of their own important position in order to appear magnanimous.

But in the end who could blame them really. Those daily pressures were born without the completeness of character that would have been required to make them empathetic. Who wants a headful of mature thoughts? Who could manage that much understanding and still find a reason to push the covers back each morning.