She lies on the bed and stretches. The bed sheet crumples under her and the pillow flattens, forcing her to fold it just to make it appear plump. She stares at the ceiling and decides to clean up the cobwebs in the morning. Maybe. She waits for sleep to come. The light remains on.
She turns the light off.
She turns the light on and decides to brush her teeth. She considers reading until she falls asleep, but her eyes complain. Her left eye fights to keep closed in the sudden brightness. She weaves around the mess that is her room, brushes her teeth, then goes back to bed. She stares at the ceiling again.
She watches a cartoon series. She goes through four or five episodes when the Internet stops her. The video fails to buffer, and she gives up refreshing the browser. She decides to read a few chapters of a book she considers boring, hoping to fall asleep out of boredom. She finishes one chapter.
The light is still on. She's still staring at the ceiling, thinking of red flags and wrong choices. Her mind fills with questions and excuses. The parade of ideas flock and bottleneck until she shakes them out. She rolls around in bed, trying to find a comfortable position. She decides to do stretches, hoping to tire herself. She turns the light off and stares at the darkness, willing it to swallow her until it was time to face daylight again.
3:00 p.m. the previous day
She drinks coffee.
It's NaNoWriMo again! Let's see how long I can keep this up this time.