A little bit early. He wasn't entirely used to this hour, he'd had jobs before that required it, yes, but this was different, this was unnecessary and of his own free will. As the early morning sunlight cut through his water-stained window and brushed past the thick, yet ineffective curtains, gamboling of his dark oily coffee, James considered that this was after all, his fault.
Having chosen to wake up at 5am was a bewildering move for his parents, who were used to seeing him stagger out of his bedroom at anywhere between 4-5pm every day since he'd finished college, which was growing in excess of 3 years now. During this time James had amassed a total of one job, 3 years ago, which lasted for approximately 2 weeks. Since then, not a lot, in fact nothing. His sleep pattern wheeled away from him, cycling through a variety of sociable hours, he would consider himself nocturnal until his waking period pit-stopped ante meridiem, purely through chance. Even a broken body clock tells the right time twice a month.
James dragged his unwilling body around the house, coffee in hand. Slumping down in the living room he took note of the dull electronic whir that signalled the arrival of milk. Part of him felt he had become a new man, this signalled the start of an actual, grown-up life, he'd get a job, move out, go travelling, the world was his. The other part of him felt sick, either the 3 hours of sleep or the 5 teaspoons of cheap, instant coffee was at fault, James blamed the sun and the world.
HE KNOCKS A THIRD TIME
"Mum?"
James wasn't absolutely sure what time his parents normally got up, it was a Monday so, 06:00 for work? That sounded normal.
"Mum?" He repeated.
No answer still, maybe get some toast in before he had to leave. Crumbs bespeckled the kitchen counters and plates needed washing, there was one staling end piece of a loaf of Hovis laying in the bread bin. People ought to go shopping, considered James, maybe he could grab some groceries on the way back, part of his 'new leaf' persona, his parents deserved that sort of behaviour. Stale bread was probably fine to toast, so into the toaster it went and James slumped back down onto the sofa.
"Mum!" He shouted again.
He couldn't quite remember which charity this walk was for, but James definitely remembered feeling strongly about it at the time. He'd certainly felt strongly enough about it to sign up, round up some sponsors and wake up at 5am. It was gloomy, that sort of early morning light was in effect, the kind that still looks as thought it's struggling to break through curtains, even when there are none. He turned on the lights, but to no effect. The coffee was beginning to kick in now though, had the milk van left the street yet?
IT'S GETTING LATE
James bounced over to the toaster to retrieve his now partially burnt, stale bread, he didn't mind. Smearing the last of the Lurpak over it, he paced around the room excitedly. He began half-tidying things, putting magazines away, taking cups through to the kitchen. Things were definitely looking up, he'd probably get online tomorrow, start looking through some job sites, he fancied working now, it would make a nice change. Having something to do definitely seemed more appealing than it did yesterday. James was practically dancing around the living room now, becoming a one-man torrent of semi-helpful activity.
"Mum?" He called, yet again, knocking on the door some more.
YOUR TOAST IS READY
As the toaster went for seemingly a second time, James became suspicious. The humming of the milk van was still present, so James wandered over to the window to check. It was pitch black outside, something that James had not anticipated.
TIME TO GET UP
James blinked back the sunlight and reached for his coffee, it was freezing.
"It's late James." His Mum remarked.
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