My bedroom is cool. It is late. The sun set hours ago probably, but time doesn’t hold much purpose right now.
My bed feels like a cocoon gently floating at the speed of light while, in my room, time stands still. The coolness of the summer night means that I can hide under the blanket while wrapping my bare leg outside on top of it. A pleasant light breeze blows through the open window every 30 seconds or so as if to tether me to a reality and remind me it’s there when I’m ready.
When I peek out from under the blanket, I see pieces of the moon through the leaves of a tree outside the window. Its crescent shape wanes. I put my head back under the covers except for my ear. The wind rustling through the leaves is comforting, and I need comfort.