Regeneration X Read Free Page B

vocal, social self at a much younger age. Now, instead of stepping up to some social media soapbox she tried to remain mindful of her role as wife, daughter, sister, professional, etc., in the real world. Therefore, apart from Michael, her family, Inez and Rebecca “Becks,” her two closest friends, were her sounding boards now and the only ones who heard her grievances.  
    Many of her ways were because she secretly longed for the slower-paced days. Days when people took time to appreciate their actual surroundings, other people and life, for example going for strolls or sipping a port or sherry over a philosophical conversation, instead of the occasional wine with dinner or a binge night out chatting about mundane tidbits. She fancied the idea of a habitual thing, not something you just did on occasion between scheduled happy hours and video conferences, or amidst the chaos of group chats, social media, and messaging, virtual or otherwise.  
    All of the boxes, which were part of today’s norm, were tedious and as Becks called it, “soul sucking.” Charley agreed wholeheartedly and felt, sometimes, she didn’t quite fit into the modern world even though she could navigate through it well enough. She even had a HaloYou profile. She tuned-in to her connections’ lives, but rarely posted virtual moment videos or virtyous , of her own self and life. This way she stayed informed; held fast to her privacy and managed some semblance of unspoken social responsibility. Privately, she also attempted to appease her quirks in a modern way, even though she was old-fashioned at heart. For example, since the beyond-repair fireplace was long gone (demolished during their remodeling) and she’d have to join some Meetup group just to play board games (she played Solitaire or Chess on her tablet), and around Christmas, she launched a hologram of a roaring fire as part of their decorations.
    On a cold night Michael would ask, “Should I light a fire?”
    Charley took her cue to turn up the smart thermostat (which wasn’t intelligent enough to detect the need for heat to accompany the vision). They’d sit and enjoy a chilled Moscato d’Asti or a hot toddy, enveloped by the virtual ambience.
    ・ ・ ・
    Finally, she disengaged her limbs from the mangled comforter and wrinkled pile of sheets shoved halfway off the foot of the bed. Just now, she pondered the reasons why she had apparently slept so restlessly, especially when she had felt so comfortable. Falling asleep is a challenge. Waking up I’m disoriented and now it seemed the in-between is in question, as well .
    Michael had already left for work and, judging by the state of the bedding, asking if he had bruised shins or lost any covers throughout the night might have revealed more. But those clues would have to remain uncovered, unless she remembered to ask.
    All these waking meditations were helpful in the self-therapeutic steps she took to clear her mind, but they sure did muddle her subconscious. It was in this instant it came upon her; she had dreamt. She sat up at the edge of the bed and forced herself to concentrate. Closing her eyes, she pulled at a fragment and slowly an image appeared in her mind, but no story emerged. There was only a vague memory of herself long ago and an elusive idea behind this memory, which lingered. Getting nowhere, she gave up.
    The bed had been toasty warm, but once out from under the covers her toes began to tingle with cold. Even in winter, or near winter, she hated sleeping in socks. Absentmindedly she curled her piggies around the wooly shag of the rug on the floor.
    With the curtains pulled back, the sun shined in brightly through the panes of the balcony doors and cast a yellowish glow over the otherwise pale-bleached wood floors and white walls. Getting up she stood in front of those doors, stretched widely, and took in the view of Lake Washington not too far away.
    “Eck, I pulled something,” she pronounced aloud, cupping the base