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500-Word challenge | Self Prompt | Writing | Microfiction

Tabula Rasa

It was a morning, like every other morning.

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The morning light brightens slowly as I come awake, blinking my eyes. The pillow beside me is dented, like someone had slept on it. The mattress is still warm when I slide my hand to feel the side of the bed. I twist onto my back slowly; the covers are warm, and the air is chilly. I stretch my legs out and close my eyes. It’s just another day, like any other day.

A clatter comes from the kitchen, stirring me from my dozing state. I pull back the covers and swing out of bed and onto my feet before realizing I’m naked. Like most mornings, my cock is thick and semi-hard. I reach down, stroke it once, then walk to the ensuite bathroom. Rubbing my bald head with one hand as I aim with the other, I empty my bladder. Turning on the water at the sink, I look into the mirror at my reflection; then my focus drops to the bottom, and a word is drawn in black wax.

Janice

My brow creases in confusion like the start of each morning. Opening the closet, pulling out a drawer, grabbing a pair of shorts, and pulling them on are all part of the morning routine. I don’t have to think about it, which is a relief. Checking myself in the mirror, I brush out my beard. I check the name scrawled at the bottom of the mirror again before leaving the bedroom and heading to the kitchen.

I hear her before I enter, a ripple of anxiety in my gut as I call out to her. “Janice?”

She’s sitting at a kitchen table, sipping from the cup of coffee in one hand while holding a sheet of paper in her hand. She turns and smiles at me, and I lean my hip against the counter and return the smile.

“I made coffee,” she says, nodding to the side.

I look at the half-filled coffee pot but don’t see any cups. I give her a tentative grin, then open the cupboard above the coffee maker. Grabbing a cup, I knock it against another, the clink masking the sigh of relief I make at opening the correct cupboard. I look back at her after filling my cup, holding it in both hands. She smiles and pushes the chair beside her away from the table with her feet, pulling her heels to the edge of her chair. Stepping towards her, I turn and lower into the chair, then take a sip of coffee.

“What’s this?” she asks, giving me the paper she was reading. “It was on your nightstand. I didn’t mean to pry. I’m just curious.”

Reading down the sheet of bullet points, each word foreign at first, then as I scan over the list of words, my memories expand from the tabula rasa I begin each day with. I look up and give her a half smile. “Janice, let me explain about who I am.”

“It’s Blaire, actually,” she smiles.

Author’s Note: The concept of a blank slate is a common trope. It’s used in Mememento, Fifty First Dates, Ground Hog Day, and probably many other stories, television shows, and movies. This is just a quick take on the idea. This is the first story of a new year, starting with a clean slate and putting down words. I hope you enjoyed the story. Thank you for reading, highlighting, commenting, and clapping.