Maybe it was a prank the kids played on me. Maybe it was something they thought about when they woke up, and waited for the sounds of me. Something they giggled about once they crawled back into their beds. Or maybe my wife did.
However it happened, whatever reasoning, I've woken up, and I can't open my eyelids. I touch them and feel them moving as I look back and forth in the dark room, the slight bump of whatever is keeping them down. Whatever it is, it's stronger than my muscles, and I rise our of bed without really noticing. I sleep like a nocturnal beast, and so no light enters my room until I open the blinds or turn on light. I only knew once I did this, and everything turned red.
And they must have done something to my ears, because I couldn't hear anything. Only I could. I could hear the sheets rustle as I laid back down on my bed, my nightstand shake as my mattress hit against it. But not sounds of little footsteps outside my door, or of my wife in the bathroom. Almost as if I lived alone.
When I went downstairs, I was surprised to find that my sense of smell was gone as well. No fresh coffee or cooking eggs, the sweet smell of melted butter wafting towards my nose and tempting me away from my grapefruit. I felt my way towards the fridge, and opened it, rustling past half empty milk cartons and leftovers to where a half sat. I put it onto the table, and felt towards my serrated spoon. My first jab shot my eye full of juice, and it stung, but after that it never had the strength. Years of training myself through blunt force has made me forget the sour taste, and instead I wonder to myself how I'll drive to work if I can't see or hear. So I guess I'll call in late, but I can't find my house phone, and I left my cell upstairs.
Instead, I end up sitting at the kitchen table, which is warm from the encroaching sunlight, and wish that someone would touch me.
My forehead itched, and it brought me back. I was cold where the sun had moved from, and my guess was for noon. I stood up to walk away, and took a step, passing from red light to black. I stumbled in the change, and froze as fast as I could. Of course I wasn't going to run into anything.
I didn't enjoy sitting on the couch during that period, but I had to, because as I went from chair to chair, I found old news papers and dishes, and I couldn't move them because my hands had gone numb. Sitting on the couch while everyone was at school or work made me feel lonely, and when I feel lonely even the sound of the radio wasn't enough. With the radio, I wasn't missing out on anything. So I always left it on.
But really, one day I would have to go to work, I thought, as I came up with ways to avoid it. The couch had become my bed, and I didn't really mind. It was slowly becoming harder and harder to leave it, and my new commute to the kitchen and bathroom was the worst part of my day. I hadn't let anyone at work know I couldn't see, and as I continued down this thought process, I realized that I hadn't told anyone I wasn't going to be at work either. It made my mind lighter, knowing that I had probably lost my job, because of an absent thought. Of course, I had always had trouble with the grocery list, so why should that change. I had signed a contract, but what was it more than a piece of paper- what made it more than a rock or a kiss, or a curtain, for that matter?
I was glade when I stopped getting hungry, because it meant I could sit there longer, listening to the radio. I had to make myself eat, and I began to get sick of the food. I could still drink water, but anything else always had a sickly sweet flavour.
It doesn't really matter whether my eyes ever open again, I eventually realized during one of my afternoon rests. I was happy as it was without, and it didn't matter to me whether I got it back or not.
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