Sunday Scribblings: Who else might I have been?

Apologies for always being so darned early (more like Friday Scribblings..)

BUT being a day ahead in Australia as well as being off sick with a flu cold, leaves me no choice BUT to be early! Random words today. No promises for creativity and the like - I blame the snot-monster living inside my head.

She woke up that morning with an abrupt start.

It was not as though the air around her was full of sounds, rudely interrupting her slumber. In fact, it was the complete opposite. The air was still. There were no sounds at all, save for the ticking of the watch that lay on the bedside table on yonder side of the room. Her very own breath did not even make a sound, as she half-rose into a sitting position and took in her surroundings.

Why did she always have that eerie feeling of not knowing where she was? One would think after ten years of doing this, she would have become accustomed. Accustomed to the change, to the movement, to it all. No, this was not so for her. That same feeling greeted her in each new hotel room she visited, in each city that bustled around her, in each character.

She was alone for now.

The peace would not last long, this she knew. For the world of calmness and stillness would be shattered, the illusion ruined, the moment she stepped from that room.

She envisioned the future as she shimmied into her suit. The day that lay ahead. The next day. And the next. In her field of work, it was hard to do this. Who knows what may lay ahead. Even her superiors could not tell her that. The future remained a mystery.

Staring into the mirror, she adjusted her barrettes. Her hair was a mass of auburn strands today, neatly clipped back from her face. She liked this look; what a shame it would not last long.

After brewing herself a mug of steaming coffee from the kitchenette, she reached into the small leather case that rested on the floor. Right on cue, a shrill beep emitted from its depths. Fishing one-handed for the cell phone, she pulled it out and read the flashing message.

-T. Lobby. 1100. Munez, Thomas. Rpt @ 1300. 555-8824. -C.

Automatically, she added the information to her memory and wiped the message clear. Her motions were so habitual that they did not require thought. They simply occurred.

A barrage of familiar thoughts flashed through her mind; Was this what she wanted? What made her choose to accept that first fateful mission all those years ago? Was this path the right one? Was she fated to live out her days in the company of so many strangers, yet ultimately end up alone in a random hotel room? Did she still want this life?

Shaking her head as if to clear her mind, she reached for the doorknob to begin her day. She could ponder all she liked, but she still had a day to start. Still alone. Always alone.

The life of an agent is a solitary one.


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