12.28.15

Bedtime

            There are stars on her pajamas. Hundreds, maybe even a thousand little stars, varying slightly in size but all uniformly fixed on one, deep blue backdrop. She likes these pajamas because when she wears them, she feels like a human night sky.

            There is a spider on her ceiling. Just one tiny spider. It does not move. She doesn’t like the spider, but she sympathizes with it. It’s just a little lost. It’s just trying to live.

            Her toes are cold. She knows this problem would be easily solved by getting a pair of socks, but she decides against it. She doesn’t like wearing socks to bed. Toes like to be free, of course.

            Every two seconds, the smoke detector blinks green. Blink. Blink. It’s signalling to her that the door needs to be shut and the lights turned off. Yes, ma'am. Blink. Blink. Shut. Shut.

            On the way back to her bed, a little grain of sand embeds itself in her heal. A curious grain of sand, indeed. It originates from the litter box downstairs. It has travelled via paw. Yes, other creatures reside here too. Some furry, some not. But all cuddly and warm, as creatures should be.

            This creature loves to sleep. The issue is that it takes her a while to get there. Why? Because thoughts. Because cold toes. Because him. Because herself. Because them all. Because, because, because. Just because.

            She becauses for hours.

            Eventually, she becauses herself to sleep.