Late Nights

Darkness and the sound of a ceiling fan and my laptop keyboard. Clatter clatter, clatter clatter. There's a cat lying in a pile of blankets. There's a bed beckoning and tomorrow is impatient. I'd better hurry; I'd better sleep. A lamp is on, warm light, soft light. There's silence except for the fan and my fingers. When something makes noise, it startles the house. I don't move, I don't speak. Eventually, I fall asleep, but reluctantly; I'm not keen to appease the impetuous morning.