The Man in my Bed

Once upon a time, you were a superhero.

You get called out to an emergency surgery in the middle of the night; heroically flinging the covers off and running to go save teeny tiny baby lives (it's very cinematic and impressive) with no thoughts of cleaning the room you were sleeping in (because you'll obviously be coming back).

Hours later you then trudge back to the room with a job well done, the adrenaline is gone and your superhero gait is a bit lackluster. You open the door to find someone else sleeping in the bed. Let's be clear, it's 2am, so you stare blankly for a minute attempting to process what you're seeing and trying to remember if this is the correct room (it is). The light from the hallway wakes the occupant, who grumbles at you to close the door. He then mentions that the pillow smells really nice in here and rolls over. You thank him, and tell him it's the eucalyptus oil you put in your hair after your shower, close the door and trudge off to find another suitable room feeling vaguely disturbed that he didn't bother to change the sheets.

Settled into your second choice bed, you passive aggressively write a social media post about the experience and privately lament that even lifesaving superheroes get their beds stolen once in a while (it's so unfair!). After a few moments you remember that all superheroes need an arch-nemesis, and you've just found yours. This makes you feel better, and you curl up to sleep.

Then End.