It's been like this for the past couple of weeks. late nights with me sat up in bed, the laptop open, its blinding white light spilling across our darkened bedroom. The rhythm of writing requires I spend this free time expanding a bit on all the things that have been living in my head all day long. I know you both want it to be done and want me to go to bed, despite those things not being mutually exclusive. Thankfully, the sound of me typing has always been something that has lulled you to sleep. You try your hardest to extend your time awake by getting me to monologue. you're trying to be sly baby, but it's not going to work. You gotta go to bed, and I gotta write for a little bit, then I promise I'll be following you to sleep.
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