Awake but in stasis, I should just get up, start my day but everything feels so wrong. Blood runs fizzy in my veins and my head throbs. Why can’t I be one of the sexy insomniacs from the films, pounding the streets or hunched over a laptop writing wretched dark novels while chain smoking with gaunt cheeks and staring eyes.
The night skies are clear enough for Orion to flirt.
He tilts his hip on the brow of the black horizon, thrusting his shoulders to pull back his bow.
Restless in my bed, I throw off my covers and pad outside barefoot.
I gaze up at him as my burning need singes the frosted earth.