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I woke up in the morning covered in dirt and dust. I must have forgotten to shower after being on set all day yesterday. Taking my medicine, I glance at the time, and it is 5:09 am. I’m late, and my god, I'm running. Lucky for me, today is Tuesday, which means the set crew isn't going to be there until seven. I find it interesting that the day the main actor gets hurt is the day we all get to sleep in but him. Jeez, at least it’s nice to sleep in every once in a while. Every morning -except this one- around 5:07 am, I get up, take a nice big stretch, and scratch my unshaven beard. I throw on a robe and go into the kitchen. There in the kitchen, I would take my coffee black with two cubes of sugar, two cubes. Not one. Never one. I tried it once—my routine collapsed like a bad soufflé. Unforgivable. I slowly make my way to the counter. It is now 5:40 am, and I make my way through the halls for a good shower. There is no way I will be seen in this state. 6:00 am, and I’m slowly sipping my coffee, I change out of my robe and into my daily wear. I have to get going if I don’t want to be late. Walking down my front steps and into my car, it roars to life like it always has.
I immediately drove past the movie set and into a clearing in the forest I made behind the warehouses. This is where I park my car until I can retrieve it later. Walking up to the set, I punch my card in and shove some personal belongings into my locker. I walk straight past the set and into the hotel entrance, where I sneak past the security guards and up to the 17th floor, where I will be for the next hour. This is my favorite place as of now because my oh so GLORIOUS KING KEANU REEVES IS HERE. Every morning, I make sure to follow his schedule to a pin, and if I don’t, my whole day is thrown off.
7:07 am; He’s waking up. I don’t just follow his schedule—I breathe it. If Keanu stretches, I stretch. If Keanu scratches his beard, I scratch mine. We are two shadows dancing in sync, separated only by fame and a locked hotel room. Just like we have every morning for the past 5 months while filming, he goes to the kitchen, which is extremely dark. I take the keycard that I swiped from the front office and enter. Slowly. Carefully. I have perfected my methods to a point. Keanu is a very schedule-oriented man, so tracking his next steps was not a problem. Here, his silhouette is in the kitchen, moving swiftly and gracefully. I do too, I creep around the island like I usually do, and oh wow, he’s making his coffee. He’s close. So close. I could count the stitches in his robe. My fingers twitch. One more step. One more breath. If only I could just get up and reach the hem and collect a sample, then-
Crash
It echoes throughout the hotel room
Oh no. It seems I have knocked over a glass on the counter. I was so sure that this wasn't there last night. I have to get out soon. In about 15 seconds to be exact.
He jumps, spilling his coffee on his robe with a gasp. Here I am in an all black shadow suit with the only visible part of me is my eyes. He them and for a split second the world flashes and the universe spins the opposite way. Just like that before he knew it I've disappeared. Taking a loose string from his robe. Somewhere in the hotel the intruder alarm rings. It's really a shame because I’m already gone. Beneath the forest floor in the dirt of yesterday, I cradle today’s relic—a single thread from the robe of a god.