I lay awake in a stranger's bed. The walls are paper-thin, easy to pierce. Sounds come easily.
Whispering. Giggling. Little voices bleed through. Children are conspiring, making up the rules of a game that eludes me.
I want to sleep. I would close my eyes and fall into darkness, sink down.
But I can't.
The mistakes of my youth keep taunting me. I can hear the schoolyard games that I never played. The classmates I never joined.
They won't let go.
