Calvin was struggling to exist, in any capacity. As a day of misfortune turned into a night of returns and self-reflection, his mind plummeted into subconsciousness the moment his head hit the pillow. It was a welcome change. The few times he visited home, he always found it difficult to sleep. A part of himself was never fully at peace.
There was no delaying sleep this time. No time spent studying the walls and shadows that had been etched into his memory over eighteen years. In fact, the transition from life to sleep was so sudden that the division between the two was blurred, and lost.
He sank through grey waves, falling deeper, watching the last bit of air in his lungs rise lazily toward the surface. As he drifted further down, the pressure on his head grew, until he felt like his head were about to split. It could have happened. Calvin shut his eyes, the pain reaching a crescendo, and then it was over. He felt the tons of water rushing past him.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself back in his childhood bedroom, though everything felt slightly warped. He took a step further into the room, and realized why it all looked so crooked. He was younger and therefore, smaller.
His ears still rang with the many of voices he had heard through the vent by his door. To be clear, there were only two speakers, but both had distorted from stern, to pointed whispers, finally up to the hoarse pitch of desperation. The words rang back and forth into a general din until it all coagulated into a singular, constant dial tone.
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Taking more steps than he thought would have been necessary to cross his room, Calvin got to the window. His curtains were drawn, yet he still knew what he would see on the other side. Was this a dream or a memory? He would see his father standing at the curb beneath the street light. He was standing so still that he could have been an unwanted statue left out by the side of the road for someone to collect.
Calvin would never see a single gesture contain as much sadness. His father brought a cigarette to his lips. A cloud of smoke poured out into the night. He didn’t know that his father smoked. Then it happened, the sadness that lengthened his father bringing his hand back down to his side.
That was what he expected to see now, as everything else in this strange place had echoed his memory of this moment. But when he pulled the curtain back, the view was blurry with rain. He brought his head right up to the glass, straining to see through the watery veil. Someone was standing outside by the curb again. Only this time, they were facing the house, looking right at him.
He watched as the curtain appeared to move beside him. Only the curtain wasn’t moving, just Calvin’s perspective as he grew to his adult height. The water parted all at once, and he saw it was himself staring back.