I wake up at 3:40 so that I can write. My daughter sleeps, my partner sleeps. The cat is quite awake and has been waiting for me since 2. The world is so quiet, so still. A cold draft sneaks in through a thin window by my desk.
In this quiet, I am here with my ghosts. They desire expression, they want to be spilled across the page so they can rest. I will oblige.