I Was Only An Hour Late

The room was already bright when I woke up.

Phone face-down on the nightstand,

the alarm time still on the screen —

a note from a version of me

who had it more together.

I called and said there'd been a family thing.

Said it quickly, before they could wonder.

They rescheduled for noon.

The interviewer was fine —

perfectly fine —

and about three degrees cooler

than she'd been in the emails.

I told myself it wasn't the alarm.

Told myself it was fit, timing,

a hundred small factors

that had nothing to do with

the fact that I'd been awake at two

and three and four

and then not awake at seven-fifteen.

Today I got a notification.

He posted about his first month.

Same background, roughly.

Slightly better school —

I looked, yes I looked,

longer than I should have,

at his face in the small circle at the top of the page,

smiling in a way that had nothing to do with me

and felt completely personal.

I put the phone down.

The alarm is still set for seven.

I wake up before it every morning now,

which is its own thing.

Which I don't want to think about.