I lay, staring at the black ceiling, the only light coming from the open microwave in the kitchen. The mattress speaks loudly as I readjust to get comfortable. I pull my knees to my chest, attempting to get warm, and failing miserably. The bed of the neighbors in the apartment next to us softly hitting the wall, accompanied by muffles groans and profanity, occasionally laughter. My mother, fast asleep on the couch, small snores escaping her lips, and my small brother curled up with his blanket and pillow on the floor in front of the old television set.
Outside, people yelling, arguing, some laughing, dogs barking and howling. The sound of police sirens echo through the dark city; in the past ten minutes, six shots has escaped from a gun down the street, sending chills up my spine and fear to my mind. I shifted around on the mattress again, still finding no comfort. How people could sleep through all the discomfort and fear was astonishing to me.
I wanted him to be here. To hold me and tell me it was going to be okay. I had always found comfort in him. We hadn't talked in hours, which only added to my discomfort in cramped, tiny apartment. I closed my eyes, impatiently waiting for the sun to rise. Waiting for the moment I saw him again and I could wrap myself around him. His warmth would reach my core and cause me to shiver, his fingers with find their way to mine and intertwine in a soft and protective embrace. He would place his lips against my cold cheek, planting a small kiss before whispering the words "I missed you.".
