I wake early to put in my car (we have
one too many). My mother has not yet vacated the space though, so I go upstairs to put away my keys. I have to hurry through breakfast;
I didn’t finish my homework from last night. I finish eating and know my mother left in the interval. I look for my keys on the nightstand, but they aren’t there. The rest of my room is a puzzle where to look. I spread out all my magazines on the floor yesterday so I can start throwing them away after they waited underneath my bed for half a year. Time draws short. I set down my water and turn on the computer in the
meantime so I can at least begin on the homework. The kitchen is a blank, the bathroom, same as ever. I know I have reached
the point of no return. I must choose whether to keep looking for my keys or start typing, but what good would finishing a paper be when I can’t start my car to arrive on time? I recheck the far side of my bed and glance around the bonus room, hoping they reappeared for some dumb reason where I've already looked. Only
bizarre places remain. I tear the pillows off the sofa. I check inside the pantry. Silly, no? Yet I have left my watch inside it once before
without cognizance, so I can’t rule it out though I know I wasn’t in there. Only five minutes before I enter
borrowed time and will leave late. Pointless to continue searching, why not see what I can
throw out. My homework ought to be complete if I arrive late. I sit and turn on the screen. I reach for the mouse without looking. My face burns at the chill of five pieces of metal instead of the plastic egg. I had put my car keys next to the computer the first time I came up.
The screen happily flicks on. I am two minutes late when I open
Microsoft word.