A quick monologue, few sleepy nods follow. I throw the phone away, it hits a pillow, bumps off and settles in between the pillows.
“Spring rolls?” said Spikey’s mom at the dinner table, and he looks at me for a nano-second with his big, gleaming eyes. “Boing, boing, boing...” he goes bouncing his tiny hand along the table... I almost fall off the chair.I trot along to the loo and sit on the throne. I’m too sleepy to take aim, such a hassle for a sleepy head.
It’s Spikey’s first encounter with “spring” rolls that aren’t bouncy.
I turn the kettle on, the TV, the decorder and switch the A/C off and collapse on the comfortable sofa. In that order, every time.
There’s some news on something interesting on FwanceVienQat(re). My eyes fail to focus. I switch to Rotana Hits instead and watch a some pretty Lebanese singer shake her well-endowed assets. She’s pretty. And the track sounds amazing, with a hint of Mediterranean influence. I detect a touch of Greekness in the song.
I remember Athena. The orange tree near the doorstep. Cyprus. Just like the video on screen. I forget her gay-brother’s name. He used to work with me, in the good old days.
My head is full of splashes of happy memories in the morning. The coffee in the making is going to ruin all that, and wake me up in a minute.