CREDIT

The ticking of the clock is obnoxiously loud in the living space of her home. The time is creeping just over 1:30 am, and she has yet to lay down to sleep. A single lamp is on in the corner of her living-room, casting tall, dark shadows on the walls and outer edges of the room. Black fades to indigo as it nears the open doors of the balcony, where moonlight makes its presence known, highlighting a figure laid against the marble railing in dark blue.

Nereza breaths in grey clouds, barely visible before they dissipate before her eyes. Her toes curl against the cold stone of her balcony floor, and the blue veins in her feet contrast the pinkish tone of her cold skin. She’s had long, drawn-out bouts of insomnia plaguing her lately, and it has been taking her toll on her work. She makes errors and grammatical mistakes, sometimes dozing off and scrawling off the page, much to her horror. dust was beginning to collect on the tops of the bookshelves, as she’s becoming lazy with her chores, and she has not eaten a proper day’s-worth of food in quite some time. Still, there was no medication for this kind of thing, none that would work on her, and she would simply have to bare her way through it.

She pulls her knees close to her chest, her evening-wear bunching up under her fingers as they cling to her sides of her knees. She blinks her weary-eyes and shivers a little in the cold, wishing her brother was here to tell her to sleep. After-all, misery loves company.