Accidental Light

You get into bed at midnight and spend an hour tossing and turning, mind racing, heart racing, unable to sleep. Wide awake, your bare feet hit the carpet and as you reach the top of the stairs you realize that the house is asleep and there is something intoxicatingly beautiful about hearing your family’s snores. Something intoxicatingly magical about tiptoeing down the stairs in the darkness, avoiding the creaky steps. A bit of yellow light filters through the brown paper shades that sheathe the windows and suddenly you feel very much alive.

You enter the kitchen. The blinking green LEDs on the microwave read 1:22 AM and as you turn around, the view from the large glass window makes you stop in your tracks. A lone patio light glimmers. A city is sprawled out beyond it, handfuls of colorful lights still left glistening despite the lateness of the hour. “City of stars,” you murmur under your breath and press your hand against the glass for a long time.

The world is silent here. You are silent, and in the absolute stillness of the night your mind finds peace for the first time in years.

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