4 a.m. Monologue

Last night I couldn’t sleep. So in honor of my rommate, here is my “4 a.m. Monologue”.

G’morning God.
It’s a little early, being 4 o’clock and all, but I trust that your timing is perfect.
I sit here on the couch listening to two purrers in the darkness.
No Franklin activity.
The heater blowing.
The refrigerator humming.
The couch cover’s much colder at 4 a.m.
Maybe I’m just more sensitive.
The rustling of the goldfish cracker box stirrs the wild out of once-peaceful kittens.
“Basic, not acidic.” Kelly’s advice echoes in my mind as I attempt to neutralize stomach acid.
The reflection of my bedroom light reveals activity in Franklin’s water.
Guess the headcount of those awake is now four.
Two cats, one turtle, one Monica. No Robin.
The orchestra of coughing, plastic bag crinkling and cat collar bells plagues the silence of a once-quiet apartment.
Personal space violations and finger bites from the vampire cat spur the completion of goldfish cracker snacking.
Now what?
Silence surrounds me.
I wish Robin were up. And yet I don’t.
She looks peaceful.
Overhead footsteps reveal that there are now five awake.
Two cats, one turtle, one Monica and one neighbor.
The footsteps stop.
Now back to four; two cats, one turtle and one Monica.
The cats settle back into the couch beside me.
My eyelids heavy. Alas… sleep becomes me.
Whiskers tickle my nose, reminding me that sleep does not belong here.
Cold toes find warmth beneath bedcovers. No Robin disturbed.
The 4 a.m. Monologue now the 5.
Sleap… please become me again.

It didn’t until nearly an hour later.