Strange Condition

It was that strange condition (there must be a word for it), where you wake up and spring into action, still half-asleep. It was six-something, I was already awake, don't know why. She sprang up, sucked air in through her nostrils, we both must have still been drunk. Within fifteen seconds she was dressed, putting on her shoes, clunking down the hallway. "I fell asleep," she said.

She was hurrying. She was racing. Like people were watching her, like she was going to be on the news. A shamed schoolteacher or something. Dazed, tipsy, and grabbing her handbag. "I'll walk you out," I said, but she was already ahead of me.

There must be a word for it. Part panic, part excuse. No, I wasn't sleeping, I wasn't drinking, I am wide awake and fully alert. I am not who you see. I am not this. You have to prove yourself, who you really are, and you have to do it before the other person realizes what's hit them.

I opened the door for her. "Thanks for everything," she said. She raced out to a cab. When did she call a cab? I locked the door and went back to bed. I couldn't sleep. I kept wondering what was wrong with me.