Cascade

I didn’t sleep more than an hour last night. It didn’t make sense, I stayed up late the night before, stayed up late this night too, went to bed dog-tired. It felt like something was wrong; at least a little off. And the more I buried my head in the pillow, the more I shifted and adjusted into a more sleepable position, covering my head against the artificial light and non-artificial cold coming through the window, the more my brain latched up with state that wouldn’t clear; stacking up over and inside itself, like squishing barbed wire into a bag until it won’t accept any more.

I think I may have found out why, but that doesn’t make any sense. That wasn’t observable, couldn’t have been.

For the first time since they’d come on I had to get up and turn off my window fans. It was cold, in the zone where it’s not warm enough to be comfortable, but not cold enough to not bother me anymore. I can’t any longer suspend disbelief and pretend that the endless carefree summer is still with us; the weather is foreshadowing the inevitable march of the days getting shorter, darker and more complex.

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