#microfiction Sunday, 20th of September, 2026. Something quite unexpected had befallen me on this date. An occurrence not quite disastrous enough as to be called calamitous, but one whose consequences I can still feel. Even now as I write this, I fear that tomorrow will be decidedly more unfortunate than I had bargained for as a result of this accident. Allow me to recount the story for you. I had arisen at 8 in the morning, as I am wont to do on weekends, and in the 8 or so hours immediately preceding this, I had managed to secure for myself a fairly restful sleep. The events which transpired later in the day will no doubt cause you to be suspicious of this claim, but I swear to you, dear reader, up and down, that it's true. Afterwards, I dressed myself in my active wear and descended to my abode's exercise room. There I used one of the numerous quaint little machines at my disposal to run in place for about an hour, occasionally reciting (only in the privacy of my own head, you understand) some of the most moving passages I could recall from my favourite opera about the American revolutionary Alexander Hamilton. Once I was satisfied that I had exercised my lower body enough for one morning, I again ascended back to my room. There I stretched my weary muscles to ease them out of the minor ordeal I had just then put them through, cleaned myself under the warm torrent of the lavatory's showerhead, and began to make breakfast. I had remarked nothing the least bit unusual at this point. After finishing breakfast, however, I was almost immediately assaulted by a great fatigue. I felt as if the time had come to return to my slumber! That complete, restful slumber I had finished only a few hours before! As I'm sure you will now agree, dear reader, it was most strange how easily and how quickly I had been overtaken by this debilitating languor. And yet there was something that made it all the more strange than I have indicated thus far; for you see, dear reader, I hardly know 'er!