Cinnamon And Pine Needles
My breathing quickens, and I kick my legs, causing my warm quilt to fall to the floor. My eyes open suddenly, rescuing me from my restless sleep. I lift myself into a sitting position, wrapping my arms around my body to shelter it from the cold. My sweaty brow creases for a moment as I look around. I blink repeatedly in the dim room, trying to get my eyes adjust in my only light; the stars outside. Where am I? It's clearly nighttime, so I should be asleep in my bed, but this isn't my room. My eyes focus, and I look down. I'm on my faded red couch, a gift from my mother. Of course, it had been much nicer when she had given it to me for my new apartment, but over the years of partying and eating on it, the vibrant red was beginning to fade.
My eyes dart to the bookcase to my right. Books I had been collecting my entire life filled nearly every shelf, the sheer magnitude of them overwhelming. The very top shelf is dedicated solely to my photos. I stand up slowly, my bare feet sinking into the carpet as I walk over to the shelves. My fingers brush against the delicate photos softly, leaving a spot of dust on my finger. I wipe it off on my blue shorts, then turn my back to the bookcase.
I walk back over to my couch, feeling slightly off, figuring it was because of my dream. I know I had a nightmare last night, but I can't remember what it was about for the life of me. I sigh, aggravated, and give up, looking over at the piano to the left of the couch. It's weathered white keys give proof of how long it's been around. It has endured more than it's fair share of my brother and me beating down on its keys as we attempted to make music. I smile softly at the memory, and how my mother would always tell us how proud she was of us, even though we could only play one song; "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star."
Remembering my mother brought the painful reason of why I had been on the couch all night back to my mind. I had gotten a call right as I was finishing my nightly read. She had died. The phone had slipped out of my hand and onto the floor, my mouth hanging open slightly. I had laid down on her couch, my mind slowly shutting down, refusing to let any tears escape. I have always been that way; never letting anyone see my emotions, even if that someone was just my ginger cat sleeping on the armrest of the couch. I slipped into sleep, listening to the beeping sound of the phone on the floor, suddenly too tired to even hang up the phone.
I sink back onto the couch, letting my head fall onto the cushion. I breathe in the scent deeply; it still smells like my mother's house, cinnamon and pine needles, even after all these years. I shift so I am facing the ceiling, closing my eyes and listening to my cat's steady breathing. A single tear escapes my eye, and I quickly blink it away, turning my mind to other matters. I make a mental list of what I will have to do in the morning, dusting at the very top. I know the funeral has to be planned, but my brother can do that. I just need to get busy with other things, like I always do when I'm upset. It's the best way to get my mind off something. I can mourn over my mother at her funeral.
I'll check again on Monday. Thanks! 
But I don't think we have many of those lol.
