Sunday – one minute to midnight – the night train pulls out of the station.
Only two passengers; the Sleep-Eater and me.
By journey’s end, the ‘Things I Shouldn’t Have Done’ chest will have been prised open, its contents strewn across the carriage.
The ‘People I Used to Know’ gallery will have been studied to guilt-laden exhaustion, the ‘Worrying Symptoms’ and ‘Don’t Forget’ catalogues extensively refurbished.
On arrival at dawn, quivering with fatigue, I’ll alight to face the week ahead.
The Sleep-Eater stays on board, hands folded across its swollen belly, belching contentedly.
It probably won’t be dining out Monday night, but Tuesday’s lookin’ good.
One guess as to how I started my week then. 😦 All aboard now for Friday Fictioneers, the express driven by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, pulling carriages from all over the world.
(For anyone interested, my winning entry in Writing Magazine’s Flash Competition is published in the May edition, in the shops now: The Reliable Witness. Shame about getting my name wrong, though.)