I was already awake, but I was half asleep. There was a gust of wind that burst through the open window easily, sending those familiar shivers down my skin. I don't know why I had even left the window open in the first place. Winter in Chicago certainly isn't the most pleasant time to do that. I should know; I've lived here for a while now.
In this same old apartment, slept in this same old bed. Makes me smile a bit to see how far I've come. I don't focus on the crap side of it. At least not tonight I won't. I don't feel like it at all. A warm comforter and a closed window should do the trick.
A closed window. I'm lying here in bed now, staring at it, and feeling every sharp breeze that hits my bare arms. I shake myself from a dazed state and carry my legs from under to over the mattress. I shiver at the instant strike of the iced atmosphere and draw the window shut.
I pull the curtains to a close also. Maybe that will keep even more of that wind out. Normally, I could sit and gaze at the wintry Chicago scenes. But, glancing now at the clock on my nightstand, I find that its nearly one in the morning. I am lucky enough not to be at County right now anyway on a double. So I try and tuck myself back into the bed's sheets, now even colder than when I left them last.
I try to set it aside. And, sticking to strong stories here, I can't fall asleep. I blink once, twice, and hope that I'll grow tired. Tired as in can't-open-my-eyelids tired, because I'm already exhausted.
Now I'm restless. Restless and unbelievably deadbeat now. I rise from my seemingly frozen rest and start out of my room. I feel like coffee.
When I arrive in the kitchen, the cupboard appears to be drained of decaf coffee grounds. I mumble a "damn it" into the quiet air and reach up to dig through a box on the shelves. Nothing. I won't take the chance of pumping caffeine into my system tonight, will I?
Oh, no. Not tonight. I really need some sleep. I'm exhausted.
Instead of heading back to my room, I seat myself at the table. I pull my purse in front of me, attempting to fall asleep by beginning to go through it. I should clean it out anyway. Gum wrappers, empty checkbooks, one and five dollar bills. Where are the rest? I wonder as I thumb through it.
I litter the table with garbage from my bag. As soon as I'm about to put the past-inspection contents back in, I realize that I have to go to the bathroom. Bodies are odd, I speculate sleepily as I get up.
When I'm done, I walk out of the bathroom with a hand over my eyes. Exhaustion is killing me, it really is. My foot touches water on the floor, from that damn leaking sink. I turn around, slipping on the sharp rotation of my heel and hit the ground face first, my forehead hitting the counter a second before. From my parched lips, a yelp fails.
