It's 3:38 in the morning. There's a blizzard outside. All you want, desperately, is to sleep. It's calling your name though. You pull the blankets tighter around you, grab for your pillow. It knows you too well. It calls out to you again. You reprimand yourself for even thinking it. You turn over. You think about the consequences. Sweat begins to drip down your back. You laugh to yourself considering the weather conditions. You won't do it. Not again. The hot forks begin to run down the insides of your legs and arms. You stare at the ceiling. The angels are silent. Sweat drips from your brow. Your gut rots. You're determined. Just then it happens. Your body starts shaking. It calls your name one last time. And there you go out the door. It was a valiant effort.
Sleepyhead -- Joanne Nam
Sleepy Head -- Alice Engelhardt