I tuck my hand between my pillow and face, and the Fitbit on my left wrist lights up the room.
It snuffs out and the room goes dark. I shut my eyes again, but the seconds tick by and I am still awake.
Fluorescent light slithers between the threads of the curtain, despite the second sheet strewn over the curtain’s rods, and my eyelids flutter open.
I can’t help but notice the glowing, throbbing electric strobe coming from the neighbor’s backyard porch light.
It’s arms open wide ready to greet me, welcoming me to a restless night, saluting my futile clinging mental fibers.
The humming fan fights a losing battle to the owl hooting outside my window–a new addition to the soundtrack of my insomnia, but
it seems to fall in pace with the cricket hiding in my closet.
I roll onto my left side for the sixteenth time and close my eyes.
Chimes blow up on my phone, and a half-growl/half-groan erupts from my throat. I flick my Fitbit to check the time.
It’s 7:30 AM. Time to get ready for work.
Write to live immortal.