Early hours

It’s an odd thing, sitting in the dark with eyes focussed on the bright white screen. A tiny fly skis across the surface attracted by the glare. It doesn’t seem to notice or care that it is night time. Across the hall, the sound of deep snoring signifies that at least one of us is sleeping soundly in an otherwise still and quiet place. An orange street lamp shows the trees outside, gently undulating in the breeze. Why did they put those hideous lights up without warning? The dark was a comfort – the ability to gaze at stars and the occasional comet now spoiled by being ‘Tangoed’ in the sodium glare. There are no other signs of life on earth at one a.m. and on Twitter only restless souls and people from other places where it is not night. This is not the time for 140 character communication. The appeal of the warm bed is almost irresistible but minutes drag as changing position restlessly brings no reward. So here I sit, laptop on knee, cat snuggled up purring by my side, dog stretched out on the rug giving an occasional deep sigh, both slightly confused by the unusual sight of me in the dark, typing slowly on the illuminated keys. Each keystroke taking me one step closer to sleep.


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