Awake. Aimless.

The blossoms on the tree in the back are opening. The air is filling up with a white petal perfume. Tiny bits of pink and purple are drifting down out front. But it is dark now, and those things are rendered imaginary.

It is odd to be restless and tired at the same time. I am yearning to relax and should be in bed. But here I am. Awake. Aimless. The back of my neck is tight.

I am biting my lips.