The blinds on the window filter in a muted light, as the city outside winds down and muffled voices, burnt with smoke and alcohol, make their precarious way through the thin walls. The slits of light fall on your face, the pattern created leaves you dreaming in jail. I could trace out every line on your tired face, but I know how sensitive you are to tickles.
Tomorrow morning looms somewhere in the close distance and I know that I should be sleeping, but my mind wanders elsewhere, and my fingers itch to dance. Thoughts draw near, and, in between, a song I almost knew runs naked through my head whispering all around me, teasing my lips in to a smile.
A slight shift in awareness brings me closer to grasping what seemed impossible only moments ago, hounded by wolves and worries of the week to come. Yet, creeping ever so timidly on the surface of my tongue, a giggle lingers.