I wake up with a start, breathing heavily. That has to have been the most disturbing dream I've ever had... Feeling somewhat distressed, I look around me, taking in the familiar sight of my small bedroom, in my average suburban home. Everything is undisturbed; all my models where I left them, my desk still cluttered as ever, and my walls just as full of game posters as always.

I get up and wander down the hall to the bathroom, looking to splash some water on my face to wake myself up. Vague memories of the dream -no, nightmare- still swirling about in my mind. I don't remember anything specific, but I think I may have seen myself lying dead, from the perspective of multiple other sets of eyes. I remember feeling a strange sort of apathy, seeing my own body bleeding out before me, not experiencing the panic that should obviously have accompanied such a sight.

Splashing some cool water on my face, I finally manage to calm my nerves somewhat. Seeing my own face reflected in the mirror catches me off guard for a second, and for a single, brief moment the droplets of water still clinging to my face seem a bright and deep red hue. Like blood. The image passes almost immediately, as quickly as it came, but the feeling of dread that accompanies it is still there.

I stumble back into my room again, and take a glance at the clock on the stand next to my bed. Crap. It's nearly six-thirty already. Well, I reason with myself, no point in trying to go back to sleep now.

As quietly as I can, I boot up one of the old game consoles hooked up to the small TV I keep mounted in the corner. I pop in one of the new puzzle games I picked up at a nearby flea market. The title screen boots up, and for a little over an hour, I sit alone, quietly solving puzzles rendered in charming 16-bit graphics.

Eventually, my alarm goes off, and I reach over from my perch on the far side of the bed to silence it. Quarter to eight already? I sigh, saving my progress in the puzzle game, and shutting down the antique game system.

I put on some random clothes that don't look too wrinkled off of my bedroom floor, check my NeuroLinker, and head downstairs for a quick bite of breakfast before heading out to school. My mom's already in the kitchen, making oatmeal, and she hears me coming down the stairs before I get to the kitchen. As I pop my bread in the toaster, I catch a disapproving look from her in my peripheral vision. I turn sheepishly to face her, already knowing what she's about to say, "We both know you got those clothes off your floor. Go back upstairs and get something clean"

Dang. Busted.

I run back upstairs and throw on some other, cleaner clothing; a light-gray t-shirt, faded gray jeans, and a thin black jacket with a vaguely military cut. I hear the toaster let out a small ding as I make my way back down the stairs. When I turn in to the kitchen, however, I see my younger brother taking the toast for himself, already partially through making a sandwich out of some bacon and his stolen bread.

I let out a disappointed grunt, and look to my mother for support. She shrugs and says, "Maybe next time you'll get dressed properly the first time" She gives me a little smile and a wink, and I see my brother dig smugly into his sandwich as he gathers his things for school.

I glance at the oven's clock as my brother retreats down the hall, and decide I don't have the time to make another batch of toast. Instead, I settle for a granola bar I find wedged halfway into the back of the small wall-mounted pantry.

I eat it in three quick bites, gathering my messenger bag and keys, and throw the wrapper out on my way out the door. "I'll be home late," I call back towards the kitchen, where my mom still sits, eating, "I'm going to Arin's place after classes!"

"What for?" My mother calls back. "He's showing me a new full-dive game he gave me to install yesterday. He made me promise to wait 'till tonight to try it" I respond.

"Alright, but don't be back too late, and drive carfully."

"Will do. See you tonight"

I wave my brother outside, onto the driveway, and into my modest two-door sedan. Once we're inside the car, and safely away from mom's eye, I punch him on the shoulder, "Next time you take my food, you better be feeling pretty lucky" I tell him, playfully. He laughs, "Oh yeah," he responds "I'm sooo terrified." Heh, someone's feeling cocky today.

I drop him off at school, and as he walks away from the car, I roll down the window and call out "Goodbye Jonah, you're brother wuvs youuu!" dragging out the final syllable to exaggerated sweetness. He glances back, and I can see the embarrassment on his face, although he hides it quickly.

I pull away from the Junior High feeling satisfied in my victory. Next time, he'll make his own food. Probably.

I drive for another few minutes, flipping through the radio, until I pull into the college's parking lot. I kill the engine and leave my car, preparing for another long day of classes.