Playground

No. No. Not the sunrise. Shoot.

Manny groans as he stares at his dark ceiling. It was another restless night. The twelfth in a row, and Manny doesn’t know what to do.

He attempts to roll out of bed but instead ends up knocking over his table full of sleep medications. Serves them right. They’ve been no help at all.

Suddenly, his phone rings. Who could that be? Manny glances at his clock; he still has an hour before he has to leave for work. His boss can’t yell at him today.

Manny picks up the phone. It’s his boss, Mr. Doppler. Great.

“Yes, sir? Can I help you with something?” Manny hopes his fatigue is not evident in his voice.

“I need you to come to the office now.”

Manny is taken aback. Now? At six thirty in the morning? Mr. Doppler seems to read Manny’s mind.

“Don’t ask questions, son.”

Click. Manny brushes through his dark curly hair and splashes cold water on his almond-colored face to make him seem more alive.

As Manny walks through the cold streets of the city still asleep, he tries to remember the last time he slept for more than a few hours or even more than two hours consecutively. He can’t. Manny doesn't remember when his insomnia started, but it has plagued his life for months. The effects have become his personality now, and Manny has tried everything to fix his insomnia, but nothing has worked. Maybe it'll kill him. No time to think about that right now.

Not even the birds are chirping. The air is cold but still. It creeps Manny out.

Finally, he arrives at his architecture firm, George & Associates. The door is locked. Footsteps. Manny spins around and sees two figures approaching him.

It's Mr. Doppler...and a woman.

Mr. Doppler's green eyes stare into Manny's. They exchange a handshake.

"Good morning, sir."

Mr. Doppler whispers. "Follow us."

What is going on? They pass the office and stop in front of a coffee shop. Mr. Doppler motions for the woman and Manny to enter. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air.

They sit at a table near the window, and Manny looks out as the dead, cold streets slowly start to come alive.

"Sorry to bring you here on such short notice," Mr. Doppler says. No kidding. Well, it's not like Manny was sleeping anyway. "I know you have been struggling with your sleep," Mr. Doppler continues. What? Manny hasn't dared tell anyone about his insomnia. Was it that obvious?

Suddenly, Mr. Doppler's voice lowers again. Why is he so adamant about others not hearing their conversation?

"I can help." The words must have come from Heaven. Help. The last time Manny asked for help was when he was kicked out of his house before college. Mama is an alcoholic. It changed her. He still remembers that night like it were yesterday. He had spilled one of her wine bottles, which caused two more half-full bottles to spill.

"You get out of my house or I'm calling the cops on 'ya."

"I haven't done anything, Mama!"

"Don't you dare call me Mama! Leave now. I never want to see your face again."

"Yes, ma'am."

Manny snaps back to reality. "How?"

"This is Devorah Barlowe. She can help you."

Manny looks at the woman closely for the first time. She looks to be in her early twenties, like Manny. She has olive skin and long dark hair that goes well below her shoulders. Her eyes are like honey.

"Nice to meet you," Manny extends his hand.

"Likewise," Devorah replies. Her voice is smooth and rich, but something about her isn't right.

"I never told anyone this, but I also had trouble with sleeping when I was younger. My friend introduced me to Devorah's mother, who helped me a lot. Devorah runs the business with her mother now."

Why do they keep saying help? What do they mean?

"Help in what sense?" Manny asks.

"Trust me," Devorah says as her eyes peer into Manny's.

She slides a card across the table. "Give me a call Mr. Robinson. We can talk."

"Sure."

Mr. Doppler beamed as he said, "You don't have to come to work today. Maybe you can meet with Devorah."

"I'll call her," Manny replies, with a fake smile on his face.

"Well, then. Glad that's settled." Mr. Doppler gets up energetically and shakes hands with the both of them before exiting the coffee shop. Great. Now Manny's stuck with her.

Manny tries to exit but is stopped by Devorah. She's almost his height, and Manny is six feet tall.

"I hope to hear from you soon, Mr. Robinson," her rich voice echoes out. Gosh. Those eyes are piercing.

Manny holds the door open for Devorah and then walks through the crowds of people to his apartment. He sits on his bed, thinking. He didn't want to call her. He wouldn't call her. The whole conversation had been odd. Besides, Manny didn't need help. He could fix himself.

____________________________________________

Hours go by.

Hours turn into days.

Days turn into more restless nights.

Each day, Mr. Doppler asks if Manny has called Devorah.

"No, but I'm planning to."

"No, but we are going to work something out."

"Tomorrow."

All lies.

A week later. Manny can hardly function. His eyes so desperately want to close, but they don't. His sleep has gotten worse and worse. His brain is done, done with the torture of being awake. Manny can't even talk or think. All he wants is sleep, but sleep never comes, except to taunt him.

It's 2 a.m. Manny sits on his bed. Picks up his phone. On the first ring, she answers.

"Hello, Mr. Robinson, glad you finally decided to call. Where do we begin?"