Morning came, and the construction starts on the street outside. I wake up, you're behind me, and I can feel your breath on my back like a vaguely annoying insect. Then I'm dreaming again.
It's dark now, we're lying the same way, and we know this tiny room is haunted. You're somewhat comforting but mostly scared. The voice starts and sounds like a female commercial announcer with a insecure undertone. "I want to be just like you." Then softer and raspy: "You are pathetic." The messages repeat, ringing in our ears nearly to the point of pain. Your arms tighten and you tell me to ignore it. It occurs to me that I'll never sleep if it doesn't stop.
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