The In-between
The warm sun hit my face until I rolled out of the way again. The sheets and the air around me were cool and kept me lulled in the in-between, where you’re mostly asleep yet somehow still aware of the waking world; as if seeing out of some sort of peripheral vision. And there I was, caught between the waking and the dream. I lay there, in the twilight of what was left of the morning after my curtains filtered it, deciding whether to give in to sleep or wake and join the rest of the world. I tossed, felt the stubble on my chin, and remembered the month I had been living. I decided to lay there forever.