
Every minute
It’s a hazy mid-April Sunday morning and I wait, eyes glued to the wall, for the alarm to go off. The second-hand on the clock tortures me and I hold my breath for fifteen ticks, an obsessive-compulsive thing I’ve done for as long as I can remember. I always forget to tell my therapist about that; about how I couldn’t sleep on our family drives up to Cape Cod because I had to count the light poles on the dark highway. I turn the car on and give it a few minutes to wake up bef