1. I Can't: Go To Sleep

He sighed, his eyes burning and heavy, and realized the cruelest joke of all: now that the sun was up, he was finally starting to feel a little bit drowsy.

Did I really tell that barista ‘you too’ when she said to enjoy my coffee? he wondered. The memory burned with fresh intensity.

By the time he got to the second floor window frames, the gray light of dawn began to bleed through the curtains. The birds started their first, tentative chirps—a sound that usually signaled a fresh start, but to Elias, sounded like a finish line he had failed to cross. 1. I Can't Go To Sleep

He shifted his weight, the cotton sheets feeling like sandpaper against his skin. Every fold in the fabric was a mountain range, every stray thread a needle. He closed his eyes, determined to force the darkness into a dream, but his brain had other plans. It was currently busy cataloging every awkward thing he had said since the third grade.

He stared at the ceiling. The shadows cast by the streetlamp outside looked like reaching fingers. Usually, he’d find it creepy, but tonight he just felt a kinship with them. They looked tired, too. "Just sleep," he whispered to the empty room. He sighed, his eyes burning and heavy, and

If he checked the time again, it would be 4:00 AM. And if it was 4:00 AM, he had already lost.

He tried the breathing exercises. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. By the third round, he wasn't relaxed; he was just hyper-aware of how loud his own lungs were. The house, usually silent, had developed a symphony of taunts. The refrigerator hummed a low, mocking drone. A floorboard in the hallway creaked, suggesting a ghost that was also, presumably, suffering from insomnia. The memory burned with fresh intensity

Elias rolled onto his stomach. Then his left side. Then his right. He flipped the pillow to the "cool side," which stayed cool for approximately six seconds before absorbing his frantic radiating heat.