Diaphanous ribbons, lustred past blinds crested with dust, as they caressed Marilyn’s back, boding her an alarm to wake up and enjoy the seeping future ahead of her. Entangled in bedsheets, Marilyn woke to a soft start, still half-asleep from her long slumber. Last night had been a haze, from dawn to far past dusk, she had stayed up, and the consequences lay formidable.

Tossing slightly, Marilyn comfortably shifted from her entanglement and faced the alarm clock beside her. 11:12am. Marilyn was late.