Vigil

My eyes feel dry. When they're closed, they feel warm and wet. Every so often, I'm having to sit up straight or flinch a couple dozen times, or maybe stand up and walk around a little. We're offering fake smiles to each other, everyone here, for different reasons - mine being, it snaps me to focus.

A tinkle, a crash.

I'm looking over the bed, wanting to go lie down, just to get out of sitting like this. My back's one big coiled spring, all red and tense in the compounded curves. I go to one side, trying to crack it, but get nothing. The other side cracks. Then I try the first side again, and we're good.

A bang, a smash.

The TV's on, but it's muted. Almost like it's giving a moment of silence. On screen, a fat white guy and an attractive white lady argue about something. They pause every so often so a silent audience can laugh.

I rub my eyes and yawn.

A scream, a thrash.

There's a fight in the next room. Which means someone has to keep vigil over the people in this room.