The Edge of the World

The world should be asleep, nearly dead by now.

My mind lingers at the edge of a precipice, deciding whether to hurtle into space or continue chumming to-do lists.

The phone is so close.

I've fallen asleep in the living room again. It's comfortable, except for the open window and the hum of the city adding a dash of adrenaline through my veins as she waxes and pulses. My hearing extends itself to supernatural lengths. Like a nocturnal huntress, or something from the deep. Is that just a dog barking, or do I need to make a call?

My consciousness, hanging on eggshells, "I'll remember it all in the morning."

Go to sleep.