Awake

Dozens of half realized thoughts thronged noisily about in his barely conscious head.

He was trying to let any one of them through, to hold onto it a while, but he couldn’t. They came at him furiously, sporadically, and he could only partially make them out.

He began to think of getting up and making coffee, but he knew if he did, he couldn’t look forward to it any more, and looking forward to coffee was the only thing that made his not being able to sleep to a decent hour okay.

Maybe he’d make coffee and drink it and all would be right with the world.

“It’s getting light out,” he noticed.