Tones

It's half past seven in the morning, the alarm is ringing on the phone. The same tone that I carefully deleted from every single alarm setting, but apparently, I forgot about this one. Of course, since earlier this was not half past seven, but four o'clock in the morning. Earlier. Last time that was a year ago or so. I didn't change the settings since then, I didn't delete it, didn't touch it even. Then last night, being half asleep, I probably decided that it should really go away, we have no use for it, so let's change it to seven thirty. And I forgot about the ringtone.

So, it's half past seven, and that alarm is ringing. The alarm that woke us up when we had to get up at 4 am, because we had to catch a train to Bielefeld or Soest. Because there was something to take care of: interview, fingerprinting, monthly appearance, anything. The immigration office ringtone. Its called Fresh Air on the phone. Yeah, well, I basically jump out of bed, my heart is racing, oh my god, we'll be late, it's already seven, the train left before six, whom could I call quickly to explain that we are on our way, we are coming, we're not missing the appointment, we'll only be a bit late, but we'll be there, and we'll even spend the night on the street if there is no other way, you understand, right, we just don't want any trouble, no notes taken anywhere. My Eastern European reflexes only make it worse. I can barely catch my breath, let alone fresh air. Please put the laptop in the backpack, I'm telling A., we might have to spend the whole day there.

He hugs me. We're not going anywhere, it was only a bad dream. No more Bielefeld, nor Soest, nor Bad Sassendorf. It was the alarm ringtone.

I am changing the settings for this ringtone, and I can hear the coffee getting ready in the kitchen, the water boiling for the tea. I put on my slippers and go slowly to the toilet. We have time.