An alarm sounds.
Distant. Yet oddly familiar.
Opening my eyes, reality hits. It’s 6:00am, my alarm clock is chiming away, and it’s time for me to get up and get ready.
Groggily and ungracefully, I get out of my bed and grab my towel in order to take a shower.
I open my door, walk a few steps, and stop dead in my tracks. I’ve noticed something from the corner of my eye.
Having just woken up and lacking 20/20 vision, all I can make out in the dark corridor is an oval-shaped object. Had I dropped something on the floor the night before?
The oval begins to move.
Coming to the full realization that it is a ginormous cockroach, I rush to my room to grab spray to kill it. No way am I going to step on it, the crunch it would make under my flip flop would be giving me nightmares for a solid week.
I frantically look for the spray, grab it, and rush back into the corridor. I feel like a lion, hunting its prey. A soldier, waiting to capture its enemy.
But my enemy was no where in sight. Having been in the corridor mere seconds before, it had disappeared from before my eyes.
COCKROACH IS ALIVE AND SOMEWHERE IN THE HOUSE.
One would hope that the end of this story would be a happy one; however, to this day, the cockroach has yet to be found. For all I know, it’s plotting its revenge against me.