Debra Atchinson

The Sofabed

The Georgia sun shone relentlessly in through the flimsy fabric covering the living room window, its lacy pattern casting whimsical shadows across the hardwood floor of the studio apartment. Jasmine groaned and rolled over, pulling a pillow over her head to block the light. 5:30, Jasmine thought, was a criminally early time to be awakened after pulling a double shift at the diner. But there would be no reprieve, since Kit was also awake and tugging at the pillow, her 5- year old persistence more stubborn than the sun’s. “Mommymommymommy-WAKE UP!!”