Late

Roll over, muffled sounds from outside, light through the window.
Slow dawn of realisation. Wait, savour the warmth and comfort for a little longer.
Sound outside, light so bright, wrench open your eyes.
Check the time, check the time, what time is it?
Too Late! That’s the time! How will you explain, which excuse will suffice? Lies? Truth?

Do you rush to get ready? You are already hours late. Linger in the warm a little longer… hugging the nagging discomfort of guilt.

Oh no!

Anger runs through you before subsiding into a groaning sense of impotence. You feel sick to your stomach. You promised him this would not happen, that it would all be sorted, that things are fine.

Things are very much not fine. You cannot tell him so, he will feel as you do now, this would not be fair to either of you.

You must find a solution alone, implement it.

How could they spring this on you like this, why did you make such assumptions that all would be well?