(no subject)
I can't sleep. I'm frustrated. I pull my jeans on, I close the door quietly, I summon the elevator. Oh. There's nowhere to go. My old tricks won't do. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Pacing. My cage is a luxury high rise. I glance back at the door. I open it quietly. I pull my jeans off. I will eventually sleep. I'm frustrated. It's Friday night. There is our take out bag. Here are the smells I know so well. There is a picture I framed for your birthday. There is my lotion in the bathroom. There are our shoes by the front door. I'm frustrated.