Instalment Thirty Eight

BEEP. BEEP. BEEEEEEEEEP.
He presses his palms to his eyes, rubbing hard then dragging his hands down his face, stretching the skin and exposing the underside of his eyeballs. God he was tired, could he get through another day? Why was he in this situation? He didn’t remember making the deal in the first place, a terrible deal, it amounted to indentured servitude. Why would he ever make such a deal? Tiredness made it hard to think, clouding his mind. Maybe his parents had signed him up? He recalled them labouring away through his childhood, with just a bit more sleep he could think clearly. Digging his elbows into the bed behind him, he pushed himself upright and swiped at the alarm, silencing its infernal whining. Who would agree to sell five of every seven days of their life? It made no sense but here he was again getting out of bed to do just that. It would be easier for all if they could just remove these days of life he was squandering and implant them directly into the rich, extending their lives while shortening his, it amounted to the same thing. Work sighed and got out of bed.