It's about time I got some curtains across that window. Every morning, without fail, I can rely on the sun waking me up, and usually from a great sleep. And I'm never as tired as when I'm waking up. This morning, however, I am woken not by the sun, but by something much annoying: My phone. Ringing. At. Five. In. The. Goddamn. Morning. I grab the ringing annoyance. "Unknown", it happens to read. Now, I don't know who this is, but whoever it is better have a good reason for it.

"....Hello? Who is it?"

I never was an easy conversation in the morning.

"Hello, is this Alexander Pierce? This is Christopher Turner, I believe we've met?"

Usually when I hear somebody introduce themselves like that, one of two things come to mind, the first being "What have I done this time?", closely followed by "I have no interest in what this guy is saying". But there was something, call it nerves, fear or indigestion, that made his voice resonate. I couldn't help but finding myself being instantly woken to attention, and it took me a few moments to realise that I was sitting on the edge of my bed, my feet sweeping the floor. I brought myself round to answering his question,

"No, I don't believe we have. Excuse my manners, but can I ask who you are exactly and why you are phoning me at 5'o clock in the morning?"

"Well, as I said before, My name is Christopher Turner, and I am the organiser you hired on Wednesday. I think we went for lunch, if I'm correct?"

My head was pounding from trying to process this information, especially this early. Had I met this man on Wednesday? I, for one, cannot remember a mere 24 hours ago, he expects me to remember a whole 4 days ago? Enough of this.

"Well that's very nice Chris, but I'm not in the position to be speaking right now, as the rest of human civilization is sleeping. Have you heard of sleeping? It's wonderful, you should try it sometime".

End call. Best not to let him get the wrong idea, let him think that I want to continue that conversation, let alone see it out to it's end. It's weird, though. I've never looked out my window at this time. And all I see is the new sun rising, the rays hitting and reflecting off of the various items scattered around my room. It actually, without me sounding like a 80's soap character, looked quite beautiful. Many of the females who come back to the boudoir, the pad, always comment on the red painted walls with the green stripes negatively. However, it's actually a beautiful clash. That's the first time I've thought about this in years...

I need to call him back.


The End

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