Morning Call

The thumping wakes me.  Irregular but persistent it shakes the wall by my head and, once I’ve unwoven my mind from the tapestry of dreams, leaves me in no doubt that my day has begun. 

The clock reads five to six.  Smiling, I slide out of bed and switch off the alarm that hasn’t had the chance to sound.  So much for waking gently to replicated sunlight and bird song; my pesky scrabbler has rendered it superfluous again.

The greeting is worth it though.  Nothing beats sneezed-on knees and a whirlwind of waggle in the morning.  No, not even coffee.

100 words inspired by Marmite – a.k.a. Piglet, the Destroyer of Socks, Guardian of the Known Boarders, Wigglet and Picklepaws:

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