I sleep on the top bunk of a crummy single dorm bed. There are about 3 feet between my mattress and the ceiling, and about the same between the wall and the edge.
I have three pillows at the head of my bed, sheets, a comforter, and an extra comforter for the winter crammed to the side on a warm summer night.
Yet I stare through my closed eyelids at the day before we leave, the chains linking and unlinking in a haphazard net of frustration: emotional, physical, spiritual.
Never has my bed felt so empty.
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