Uneasy

The clock doesn’t strike one. It just feels like it does. My head resounds. And I’m wide awake. Wind is blowing. Through the window, I watch a tree branch march back and forth. My wife is calm and silent like she’s dreaming of honey. But I am helplessly recalling. Did I do the right thing? Why is he so set against me? What’s the answer? Damn it, what’s the question? The wind dies down. The branch comes to attention. The clock moves on. My thoughts slowly retreat into my subconscious. My head falls back onto the pillow. Tomorrow is another day, I tell myself. But then two o’clock contradicts me Two strikes. My head bruised and battered. Tomorrow is today.