27ray
2013-06-17-23-01-09
It’s late at night or early in the morning, you’re awake and mouth-hungry for something that can’t be found in your refrigerator or cabinets. So you slip on some shoes and noodle down to the nearest 24-hour market, hoping to find whatever it is you think you might be looking for.
There aren’t many people out at that hour, and the few you encounter have their own private agenda to deal with, so you don’t linger and visit. But you’re all members of the same latehourclub. You’ve all got that same hazy-eyed can’t-sleep look. You don’t acknowledge each other, because that would be a violation of the latehourclub unwritten rules. You search the market shelves, buy something you’re not sure you really want, go home, put it in the cupboard, turn on the television, and the isolation pierces you like a needle dipped in lemon juice.
You check the refrigerator one more time, go to bed, hope you might somehow slide into sleep.
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