And so it began with the incessant beeping of a small alarm clock that had fallen, presumably knocked over during the night, in between the bedside table and the bed. Rooting blindly under the bed wasn’t his preferred way to start the day, however today, on this day, it didn’t matter.
7am. This was the day he’d been waiting for.
Waiting? Dreading? He had always had a problem understanding whether it was excitement or fear he was feeling, but whichever it was, it manifested itself in a warm, but slightly empty sensation in the pit of his stomach, and a tingling in his ears.
It would be fine, he thought. No reason to be afraid, because he’d practiced a hundred times. Maybe a thousand - he’d imagined every conceivable variation and had rehearsed his responses. Everything he wanted to say, needed to say, was so well practiced in his head that even though this was the first time, it would be as if he’d really done it a dozen times before.
Yet that feeling in the pit of his stomach was still there… perhaps his body hadn’t quite the same level of confidence as he had, he wondered.
7.06am. Hot needles of water massaged his scalp, and shoulders, washing away tiredness from a disturbed night’s sleep. He had found trouble switching off last night, as his mind ran over the day to come, and he put pressure on himself to perform well. He needed them to be impressed, and he doubted that few others would have put in so much effort. The calming sound of the water and the humming pump drew away his attention and for a few moments he drifted through memories of quieter, more sedate times, relaxing with friends and family. Those times were fun and happy, however he always felt incomplete, without purpose, lacking focus and direction. Without a goal in life he had flitted from job to job, travelled and seen some of the world, yet feeling at the time that in lacking structure and direction, even those activities carried out aimlessly and without passion.
7.24am. Breakfast was a challenge. The empty feeling in the top of his stomach didn’t seem to welcome company and even a glass of water was resisted. Glancing out of the window in the kitchen, he noticed the sun rising, calm and relaxed, oblivious to the rising sense of nervousness. The world was going on about its business oblivious to his feelings, ignoring the fact that this was the most important day in his life, that the focus and drive he had fed off in recent years had finally gotten him to this point, the opportunity to demonstrate his ability and impress.
The photo in the corner of his eye caught his attention.
His father.
On the windowsill in the kitchen, it had been there for many years, yet today it seemed to be smiling a little more, with pride. He felt a warm tingling feeling flow from head to toe and the hollowness in his stomach receded a little. He is proud of me, he thought, as proud of me as I am. He remembered times when his father encouraged him to find a purpose, to realise a goal in life, to do so would give back ten times the energy and good feelings expended in getting there, he said. At the time he didn’t understand what his Father meant, yet at this moment, it seemed to make sense. Being that close to what he wanted, he could almost feel the magnetic pull of his goal, his passion and desire for it was more powerful with every passing minute.
The kettle clicked off and brought his attention back to the real world.
7.29am
Stepping in to the hallway, he felt that empty feeling in his stomach rise again, and the tingling in his ears became buzzing as he shivered in anticipation - the excitement \ fear getting stronger and stronger. Pushing his arms in to his jacket, he found himself struggling with the fastenings, as he clipped it securely, its weight pulled on his shoulders and reminded him of the responsibility that he now carried. Pulling his overcoat on , he toiled for what seemed like hours as he threaded the wires down the right sleeve and held them in place with tape around his wrist, leaving the button to sit snugly in his clammy palm. He’d done this a thousand times but for the first time he could hear his heart beating fast in his ears. Taking a moment to calm himself, he worked through the rising panic, taking deep breaths through his abdomen, visualising a calm green mist flowing through his body, just as he had been taught, and rehearsed, over and over again in recent months.
The thumping in his ears had quietened a distant drum beat now. Checking himself in the mirror, he looked calm and collected, dressed just like everyone else at this time of day.
Quiet, unassuming, invisible, if only for the next hour.
Opening the door and stepping outside with a purposeful gait, he pulled the door closed, leaving it unlocked.
7.34am
