my eyelids are heavy. i can feel the blood shooting through them. the more tired i get, the harder it is to fall asleep. i can't keep them closed.
so i crawl out of bed. the duvet is in a pile, overflowing off the edge where my leg last parted with the fitted sheet.
the kettle is quiet. it clicks off without whistling so no one else hears me brew the tea. but the damn cat foils me, he meows for milk when i open the fridge.
no one wakes up. i drink hot tea, he laps up his milk.