So I had an idea in my head for some time now, and I finally wrote it yesterday. Thank you to the amazing Xactodreams for coming up with and creating this clever Haiku for it. I probably wouldn’t have written it without your help.
She shouldn’t have stayed up to watch that last episode last night. She should have gone to sleep like she wanted to. She should have ignored Kurt’s pleading and retired to bed so she could get her full eight hours. Bad things happen when you stray off schedule.
“Kurt!” she yells loudly, too loud for the current hour, and much too loud for their apartment. Sound travels easily through the studio apartment decorated with tapestries.
He doesn’t respond and she huffs loudly as she tosses another pair of shoes to the side. She’ll clean those up later. She’s all kinds of disoriented and the lack of response from her roommate isn’t helping.
She throws open her curtain divider and finds him engrossed in his laptop, mid sip of coffee, with his hair all sorts amiss.
“Kurt,” she states again, calmly this time.
“Have you seen my wedges?”
“The tan pair or the black pair.”
He points in the general direction of their living room and doesn’t take his eyes off the screen.
She rounds the corner of the couch to find them lying innocently on the floor. She’s too proud for Thank You’s this morning. Instead, she throws a, “What are you doing, anyway?” over her shoulder.
“Catching up on my missed connections.”
She’s heard him going on about this before and she thought it was fairly sad.
She sits on the recliner and straps her shoes on, “Why?”
“I missed a whole week’s worth.”
She grumbles something under her breath. Normally, she thrives in the morning but today she just feels bitter and angry. She doesn’t like oversleeping her alarm, she doesn’t like running around like her head’s cut off, and she certainly doesn’t like that her roommate gets to lounge around the apartment for two more hours while she has to start her twelve hour day.
“It’s sad,” she comments, “And a little troublesome that you read those.”
His eyes finally leave the screen, “They’re romantic.”
He sidesteps her jab, “Okay, some of them are just looking to hook up, but some of these people feel like they missed their one true love.”
“You’re going to miss your train,” he offers with a glance to his clock.
She throws her hands up in the hair and mumbles some more obscenities under her breath, and continues to mumble them as she grabs her bags, throws a wave over her shoulder, and slides her apartment door closed.
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