(no subject)
Lisbeth Salander
Fandom: Millennium Trilogy
Word Count: 800
Notes: Set post-canon
It's two in the morning and she can't sleep. The sounds of sleep are spread thick over the evening, purple and an inky black. She can't sleep. It has been weeks since she slept sound, till the noise of the night didn't wake her with some imaginary noise. There is a misery in wakefulness, a sort of resentment toward the sleeping world wrapped in their blankets and in their beds. She is awake and she can not sleep. She is awake and can not bear the settling of the house and the click and the rattle of the house and the street. Of the breathing of the man next to her she listens intently. Up and down she can feel it, not see it, his chest brushes against her arm when his lungs fill, when they release the brush is pulled back and a momentary glance of cold takes it's place. Signs of life measured in hot and cold.
A slow and weary truck creeps. . .