It’s always 3 AM, isn’t it? Never midnight when sound sleep is still possible nor 5 when the alarm is so near. No, 3 AM.
I pad across the frigid floor, silent from habit and sidle up to a window.
A few lights in the neighboring apartments. Why are they up? Is it a late night, an early morning or can’t they sleep either?
I watch a storm approach, the lightning dancing over the dark city, a treat for us special, lonely few, but it only fuels my mood.
I sigh and get back into the cold, empty bed.
word count = 100