It's midnight and the flock of geese soar overhead. I hear their wings beating at the wind, the air rushing through their feathers with a soft, whirring sound. One goose calls out, but the others do not respond.
I stare at the dark ceiling until they pass. I blink in the silence and close my eyes once more. I twist my body over so that I am on my stomach. I mash my face into the coolness of my pillow, breathing in the sent of my own drool and grime.
My tongue feels swollen and dry, and I yawn. My eyes prickle with salty water.
I pull my foot up to my stomach and reach down to straighten my sock. I scratch absently at my groin before throwing back my covers, suddenly feeling too warm.
I squint then shut my right eye, which has begun to burn. I rub it with my knuckles until I can open it again. Then I realize, as the air-conditioner hums to life, that I am wasting perfectly good sleeping time.
I force myself to pull the thin, yet somehow suffocating, sheets over myself. I turn my head into the pillow and close my eyes. I stretch out my legs and my knee pops. I resist the urge to crack the rest of my bones, settling just for popping my other knee with a sharp kick.
I open my eyes and dig around for my cell phone, finding it inside my pillowcase. I check to see what time it is. I make sure my phone is on Silent before dropping it onto the carpet beside my bed.
I swallow again, then snuggle back into my sheets. My eyes close, and I begin to breathe slower and slower.
Just when I think I will never fall alseep, my phone alarm goes off and my eyes snap open. My heart thuds rapidly in my chest, my hand shaking as I retrieve my phone. I look at the time, then stare at the window. Behind the curtains, a faint yellowish light pulses with warmth and shadow. I kick away my covers and get up. Morning came too soon