One

Andre wakes up with a buzzing head and a distant fuzz. No, not the creaking noise from the roof of the house. It is the pain he feels when he has another episode.

He grunts as he stretches his arms wideout. He gets up from his bed wondering how he got there, last he remembers, he was staring at Becky's picture which is now a mixture of torn canvas and debris glass.

He pressed the alarm down before it began to buzz.

The sun was out early and the whistles of leaves can be heard from the distance. The peace and segregation from the main town remind him of the reason he chose to leave on the outskirt.

He hates the business of the town and the noise that came with it. The continuous screeching of cars, dogs barking and girls flooding the streets at night.

His mind drifts back to last night. Last night when he was engaged. Last night his ring finger was coated in a beautiful metal ring since he did not have the money for the fancy one's but she appreciated it. At least, he thought she did.

He will not spend another minute thinking of her and honestly, he feels better than he thinks he would. His heart is not as heavy as the previous day, it only stings a bit and he feels ready to go to work.

He stepped on the cold wooden ground when he hears the sound of the coffee machine. When did I set this off?

He strides to the kitchen when he perceives the smell of burnt chicken. He quickens his pace, the kitchen is in chaos.

Oh God, what the fuck happened?

He turns off the microwave and rushes to the brewing coffee leaking to the tiles already. He sighs in exasperation as he shakes his leg trying to remove as much moisture as he can.

He stands still for a moment, wondering when he had turned on the microwave or even the coffee machine. He doesn't take coffee except he is leaving to work.

He strains his mind trying to recall but all he gets is a fuzzy memory and when he tries harder, the ache worsens.

Please no, it can't be this again. No, please.

He hears his phone chirm almost indifferent from that of the birds except it there's a difference between an electronic chirm and the consistent whistling.

He returns to the room in search of it. After a couple of minutes, he had turned the room in all directions still there's no sign of the phone in sight.

He decides to try the sitting room, maybe he had hauled himself last night to the bed in a desperate attempt to get away from his thought. It is like him. He knows that.

The phone is seated on the table and the display light still on. He reaches for it and his first thoughts are Jesus, I am not dead.

A hundred missed calls from Christiana and five messages. He quickly unlocks the phone, taps the messages.