Sleepy

 When I was in college, my roommate went out early one weekend day. It was early (college student early, anyway) when he returned, and I wasn’t awake. 

He realized he forgot his key card to get in our building but wasn’t worried, thinking: Matt’s window is right by the door on the first floor. His window is open. Surely, he’ll wake up when I call him.

Nope.

I didn’t wake up when he pried the screen off either.

Or when he opened the window.

Or when he climbed through.

Or when he replaced the screen.

I did wake up when he was closing my window. Go back to sleep, he said.

I can now top that.

On weekdays, my alarm goes off at 6:30. I give Fame a pill, pull on my shorts, and wait for my sister to get me fully dressed. On Thursday, I fell back asleep and didn’t wake up when she came in.

Or when she put on my leggings.

Or my socks.

Or shoes.

Or when she fed Fame.

Not until she started tapping me.

I was tired.