The fridge hums louder after midnight, or maybe I just finally hear it.
My tea went cold two chapters ago. The mug ring on the table is a small, perfect moon.
Outside, a car passes slowly like it’s not sure where it’s going either.
I used to think 2 AM was lonely. Now I think it’s just honest. No one performs at this hour. The dishes sit undone and that’s fine.
Tomorrow I’ll be busy and certain about things.
But right now the quiet has a chair and I’m sitting in it.