The clock mocks me. Twelve, midnight. A soft sigh escapes as I scoot deeper beneath the covers. Just once, please let me sleep. The silent pray slips through my exhausted mind.
Water drips from the kitchen sink, a neighbor’s dog barks, and I twist amid the sheets like a swimmer tangled in seaweed. There’s a red 2 on the face of the clock. If I squint, it looks like a twisted smirk.
I give up, and reach for the night stand. The tiny white pill is bitter, but the water cool. I close my eyes and shut out the neon numbers.
Today’s Writing Prompt for Bite Size Fiction is brought to you by –
…please let me sleep…