Her head was against my shoulder. I’d have to admit it was getting a bit painful, the pins and needles starting to run down my left arm, but I wasn’t about to wake her.
3:56 the clock read. And I couldn’t sleep.
Even with the blinds shut, light still filtered in, casting odd shadows off my dresser. My arm wasn’t the only thing feeling numb.
Too many thoughts went through my mind. After a day spent firmly stuck on ‘idle,’ all I could think about was creating something. Maybe it was a sort of self-validation. Proof of existing.
I sighed. What the hell was I thinking? Why couldn’t I let go? Questions without answers and without sources kept my eyes from closing, aided by a queasiness in my stomach. Dread?
“Dream away,” I whispered.
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