I can feel the effects of the valerian weighing my limbs as I clumsily stumble my way to the bathroom.
It is another of those nights.
My bed is empty. My head is not.
Dreams are never enough, and my heart is too awake for sleep. I feel its strong tempo beat against my wrists, behind my belly button, inside my thighs… Against them… Between them…
Between them.
Right… There.
Where you should be.
Damn I miss you.
Herding my stray thoughts, I stare with night vision at the imperfect reflection in the mirror as I wash my hands, and I wonder for a hazy moment why I see my mother gazing back at me.
Every second is an hour as I drag my heavy body back to bed, and I notice the glow of the clock on the window ledge; after what seems a year, the minute marker has finally rolled over.
Only 387 more minutes to go til sunrise.
I’ve never been any good at counting sheep.
Neither have I. A pointless exercise.
Indeed. And there are so many other ways to exercise in the night…