The morning of August 21st 2008

I laid for hours waiting in the bed, the wrong way around with my coat, shoes and socks on. I laid there watching my reflection in the shards of glass still on the floor, shattered from mirror's frame. Silence; overpowering silence. The water dripped from the leaky tap in the bathroom and I checked the time from the tick-tock of my wrist watch. My body was numb, I couldn't move. I checked the time - one more time - another hour gone. My head crammed full of selfish babble from unwelcome guests who spoke so loud that I couldn't hear myself think. So I didn't. They drank tea carelessly with porcelain service and as they clattered the cups back down to their saucers, their noise pierced right through my skull. I didn't try to think or move or listen. I remembered my momentary freedom. Those people had ceased their partying and I'd heard the sound of kids on the street, kicking a football against my wall, blending with the buzz of traffic from the road. I'd heard the glass break as the frame smashed to the floor. I walked down the stairs and on reaching the bottom entered the kitchen to make coffee. Slamming the door failed to stop the clattering. Moving over to the sink, I turned on my tap, the kettle heavy in my weak hand. I placed it in it's stand and flicked the switch. The water began to bubble just like my straight jacket of tension that woudln't release. Holding out my hand over the sink, it did not shake as the steaming kettle lifted. I held my breath.