Samira started awake at the sound of thunder in a life that was eternal autumn. Her eyes blinked once and then again before the rest of her body caught up to her mind’s wakefulness. Long fingers crushed feather pillows as her mind clawed its way back towards sleep, but the thunder wanted her awake and so did her young woman’s bladder. Frustrated she threw back the heavy comforter and swung her legs over the side of the short wooden frame, using her elbow to propel her off of straw mattress. Reaching beneath her bed, one hand rubbing sleep from her eyes, Samira managed to secure the chamber pot. Dragging it forth, she moved off the bed and squat over it, releasing her nightly water and bringing a slow relief to her insides. Once done, she cleaned herself and gently pushed the pot back out of her way so she would not knock it over. Once she was dressed she would empty it in the flower beds as she did every day.
Her mother’s voice echoed through the small farm house just as it did every morning, at the same time every morning whether there was a storm coming or not. If the the thunder and lightning were any indicator, she would not be helping her father in the harvest fields today and Samira was already contemplating what she should do with her extra time.