It is a little past nine in the morning and I can hear the soft snoring of my companions on the beds across the room. The air conditioner hums gently, a steady stream of cold air spewing forth from its mouth. Outside, I can hear the faint chirps of lively birds. From the gaps between the blidnd, a greyish light filters into the room. Is it a cloudy day, or are the windows tinted? Coupled with the tenderness of the duvet that I've cocooned myself in, this morning that greets me makes one very lazy indeed.
I notice that my sister and her boyfriend are sleeping on different beds. What an odd couple! If it had been Sarah and her boyfriend, they'd no doubt huddle close to each other under the same blanket.
What am I doing here? Aren't they absolutely fine on their own? The boyfriend has been here four, or five times already so I found it odd that my sister should ask me to come along. Perhaps, I am the excuse, the object placed between the intimate space of the two so that my father wouldn't question this trip. Suddenly, a kind of sadness has overtaken me as I realise that to my sister, I'm only a flimsy piece of condom. The distance between our beds seems to have stretched further, and I hear a tear somewhere, the rift between us an oblivion with jagged teeth.
I should just wake up and leave.
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