The Lives of Dexter Peterson – v1.5, Pages 1-11

This is the first installment of my book The Lives of Dexter Peterson. It’s the first eleven pages, transcribed and given a rough edit from the original NaNoWriMo version. Dexter wakes up in New York City in his own bed, with his own face, and cold. Most of us take mornings like that for granted, but not Dexter.

It was cold in New York City, a welcome import from a Canadian storm that temporarily held the summer at bay. Dexter awoke to a sharp breeze blowing through his window as though someone tossed ice water onto his chest. Sitting up smartly, he looked about the walls of his apartment. The mirror he knew, the bedside table he knew. His leather-bound journal by the lamp on his dresser he knew intimately. Every scrap of peeling wallpaper and cracked plaster he recognized with relief. Dexter had been here before. Dexter was home.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he could feel the cold radiating from the hardwood as though the storm lurked between the floorboards. He braced himself and his toes, planting both feet down. Nobody else would shut the window for him, no matter how much his feet wished someone would. As soon as he closed the latch his alarm clock shattered the morning serenity with news of a hot sale on Mazdas. Dexter planned the day carefully and the alarm clock was his starting gun. One hour to get himself together and catch the bus, one to get coffee and write in his journal, and one to get to his appointment downtown. Planning beyond that made no sense to Dexter; he lived by the clock, not the calendar.

The Lives of Dexter Peterson v1.5, Pages 1-11 – 127k PDF
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