“My room is pitch-black and I rub my eyes. The hard sound of rain beating at the walls and the roof drowns out the room’s white noise. I can’t sleep without some kind of white noise. Never could, not even when I was little. I can hear the wind whipping the trees outside into a frenzy. We live at the end, on a cul-de-sac. Behind the house is a small forest that wraps around the entire neighborhood. I can hear the trees wailing even over the sound of the storm, which is odd.My eyes roam blearily t...o the clock. It’s 5:47 a.m. Dear God, almost time to get up. Can’t believe I agreed to a 7 a.m. meeting of the minds with Dan. It’s unheard of to get up this early on a Saturday morning. The alarm is set to go off in exactly thirteen minutes. Do I go ahead and get up or lay here waiting for the alarm to go off? I’m fond of option two. I got into the habit of it around foster home six. You lay half awake, half asleep and just watch the clock. It’s weird, but I love it. Your thoughts wander, never resting on any one thing.There is one thought I can’t get away from.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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