Turning the Ship for a Bagel

I was once on a U.S. military ship, eating breakfast in the officers’

lounge, when the Operations Officer walked in. This man was not awake.

I’m talking full zombie mode. Half-open eyes. Bagel in hand. Running purely on

muscle memory. He sits across from me, barely alive… and the morning

sun is blasting straight through a porthole like a spotlight— dead center on his

face. He’s squinting. Chewing. Suffering. Just trying to remember

how to exist. Then— without warning— the zombie stops chewing.

Slowly… he picks up the phone. Calls the bridge. In the sleepiest