Today’s daily prompt; The Golden Hour.
Hot – it’s too hot.
I have to push my dog off the blankets before I can actually untangle myself from my sheets.
I’ve been up about two times already – once before I actually got into bed at around 10.30 and the next at 7.43 when Fletcher decided she needed to pee.
The darkness is a little disorienting, as is the fact that my door is wide open and I hear the faint chatter of my family.
I roll out of bed, smacking Fletcher in the face accidentally as I swung my legs off the side. I had tried to get her off the bed by throwing a piece of the blanket that she’d chewed off through the door but she just watched it fly before swinging her eyes back to me as if to imply I should try better.
As I stagger the bathroom, I try to be as quiet as possible.
I like staying in – I mean, I go to sleep at four in the morning for God’s sake! But for some reason, although my family probably don’t intend it, there is always an intense feeling of shame when they see me emerge bleary eyed, blinking into the afternoon sun.
I laugh sarcastically at their jibes. I’ve argued my case a thousand and one times; I think better at night – I’m more comfortable with my thoughts – there’s nobody to bother me – it’s nightime…
Mornings are pretty, sure, but I’ve always been a fan of the dark.
Image is totally not mine. I just found it on themetapicture.