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Pulling his socks on quickly, he rolled across the rumpled bed, and started to reach for the pack of Malboros and lighter atop the nightstand. Now, Matthew's head finally began to clear of the morning cobwebs. The cool air-conditioned air, pushed down onto him by the ceiling fan on high, felt good after the hot shower.
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The three bedroom house was dead silent, but that was something he studiously ignored, as he always did, these days. Dry, he dressed quickly in the bathroom, as he always did, then padded back to his bedroom to put his socks on away from the damp bathroom floor-carpet. The unlimited hot water was one of the few luxuries he still allowed himself to enjoy, so almost a half-hour went by, before he finally slipped from the shower and toweled himself off. He'd never understood the morning aches, but just put it down to not being at all a morning person.
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Matthew luxuriated, as the almost blisteringly-hot water beat against his pale skin and soothed lean muscles which complained every morning. Unlike his old college apartment's shower, which had taken a solid two minutes to approach mildly tepid, the water was a gratifyingly near-scalding immediately. He was grateful for the immediately hot spray of water, from the shower-head. Stopping to grab a towel, from the small adjacent bathroom closet on the way. Snagging a clean gray short-sleeved shirt, a pair of black jeans, boxers and a pair of socks, he made his way out of the almost unadorned white-walled bedroom of what had been his family's home, and down the short hallway to the bathroom. With the sun defeated, and future weekend mornings rendered safe for sloth, the twenty-five year old slowly made his way over to his closet. It took something like fifteen minutes and a hot shower before his brain even seemed to find first gear. People who could just roll out of bed, hop in the shower, suck down a cup of coffee, then be bright eyed and bushy-tailed for the next several hours mystified him. He wasn't really one for humorous antics, but whimsy was something he'd discovered helped him deal with first waking up for the day, these days. "How the mighty have fallen! The mighty Helios, defeated by the humble clothespin!" Matthew melodramatically exclaimed to the empty bedroom. Which put an effective stop to the game of peek-a-boo the fiery orb he didn't often see these days had been playing with him. The additional weight of the clothespins seemed more than sufficient to keep the fan from moving it about any longer. Getting back up, the tall lightly muscled young man ran his right hand through his shaggy yet extremely straight jet black hair as he studied the result of his handiwork.
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It only took a moment to clip both clothespins to the bottom corner of the curtain. Taking both, he walked over to the rightmost curtain and took a knee. It took nearly a minute, but at last the two clothespins he'd thought he remembered tossing in here were revealed. 45 caliber pistol aside, and rifled through the remainder of the drawers contents thoroughly. He opened the nightstand drawer, carefully moved the fully loaded Sig P220. Glancing toward the still-moving curtails, Matthew sighed and rolled out of bed. The intermittent glimmer across his closed eyelids was enough to finally make the formerly sleeping young man groan in defeat, open his eyes, and sit up in the simple queen-sized bed. A persistent flicker of sunlight kept sneaking through the blackout curtains intended to blot it out, as said curtains were pushed about by the ceiling fan thrumming away on high.
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