2:30

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It is the witching hour- sometime between dark and day.

I lie still with the light of a crescent moon peering through a transparent window dressing, dogs barking obnoxiously to remind the world that not all are sleeping.

The dogs and I- we are awake.

I stare at a dark wall, still.

I think on the day passed and on the one yet unmade.

What will I make in the new day? 

I will drift back soon.

I hope the dogs do, too. 

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