Tiffany Storrs

Fortune

The moonlight found one twisted shade, one uncovered corner of glass pane to shoot itself into. Late winter, pre-dawn, the 4 am frost thick and obscuring its gaze, sending it shattered, cascading in several directions at once. One beam caught Edmund's eye, but he was already awake, having completed his mandatory two hours of sleep for the night. He rubbed his palms down his face twice, (no more, no less) tossed the blanket aside, and rose in spite of the unnatural heaviness of his limbs. Some days felt heavier than others. He flipped on the lamp, but the glow of the moon alone had done a better job of lighting the room.