3 a.m.

Fumbling words moved my drowsy mind to a laborious clarity at midnight. I grabbed my phone and typed words in an order that best framed my state of mind, tying back my elusive little thoughts in an obedient pony tail from an unruly mop. The flicking cursor winked at me, encouraging and tentative, as if to make sure that I’d spilled it all out, with a pair of caring eyes, those of a stomach-pumping nurse. This made me sick. You sentient jackanapes! I thought with venom in my hiss. Then I shut off the screen and sent the words to no one. 

I gazed into the hallow of blackness, silhouetted by the fuzzy rims from the signal light on the air conditioner, time grazing my drenched-cold skin, every second that passed ticking a welt on it. Another night’s gone white. I thought motionless, under my heavy breath so moist that I could squeeze it for dewdrops. I wouldn’t want to bury my nose under the cover - that would be action involved and I’d rather die. In my small wishful thinking, everything should relent by now and slacken off to a terminal stop.

The sad thing is that life can end abruptly but we can’t. We decay slowly.