The phone ringing brought me out of a sleep so deep that when I broke the surface I had to gasp a long breath into my burning lungs.
The arm that I'd been lying on flooded with blood and the awakening pins and needles shrieked as I rolled to check the display. I shook some life into the limb and flipped open the phone to look at the missed call.
"Unavailable." Well I don't do unavailable. Unavailable used to mean a reporter trying to get an exclusive, or a producer trying to get me to love a project, or a woman just trying to get me.
Now it means a bill collector.
How far the mighty have fallen. 3:54 in the frickin afternoon and the best place to be is abed. And alone no less. I slowly slid my feet to the floor and cradled my head in my hands until I could hold my eyes open against the watery afternoon sun. The pain in my head hadn't been helped by sleeping. Nothing helped it these days.
This is just an excerpt now because I'm pleased to announce that Unavailable has been included in Flash an anthology Edited by Chris Bartholomew and Published under the Static Movement imprint.
You can purchase the book HERE.
This week's list of fridayflash at Mad Utopia