“I was still in bed. Why? I don’t know. This happens so often lately. I go to sleep around midnight and wake up every four hours or so, have a cigarette, then slip back down under the covers and pull the blankets over my head like darkness itself, snuggling back under a blanket of sleep and drifting off in dreams for another four hours. And there are days when I do this for sixteen hours at a stretch. God knows why, or how. After a point it isn’t really sleep. A long waking dream. It just seems ...that there is nothing worth getting up for. A memory—I had days like that in Eastchester. Days of long sleep. I guess it was a way of avoiding things. Housework, things I did not want to do. I have none of those responsibilities here. Then what? Sleeping the long sleep to avoid being awake and facing—what? The fact that I have nothing to do, arduous or otherwise? The fact that life is empty? But is it empty? It does not always seem that way. It seems—oh, I don’t know. But I have to write about Susan.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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