It is in the sleepiness of stillness in the unwinding of the night, that we are most perceptible to the shattering reality of discomfort.
Footsteps drag themselves through leaves outside my window, and rather than only drawing nearer, they move in some languid orbit. It is in this moment I can feel my heart so intensely that my ears grow warm, my tongue swells thick. It is in this moment I realize how perfectly my right leg fits on top of my left under the heat of bed sheets, as I myself am both perfectly made and perfectly afraid. I am comfortable feeling this discomfort, so I waste time waiting for the footsteps to stop. Stupor of sleep, stupor of sleep…