1 AM

Sometimes I stay up very late, feeling scared and inadequate and lonely. When I get like this, a little shaky and too tired to sleep, I sometimes read a book. Sometimes I write emotive embarrassments in yellow legal pads, or watch the beginnings of movies I'll never finish.
 Tonight I went downstairs to make myself a cup of tea. I took it outside, and sat down on the wrought-iron rocker bench on our back porch. I pulled my knees up to my chest and looked up at the stars. We live in the suburbs, so the stars are whispers, not declarations. But the longer I looked, the more stars I could see. Look at the stars, look how they shine for you. They have always seemed so friendly. Between the tea and the chilly night air, I managed to calm down.

(You said I should write something in that half asleep, half awake state that sometimes happens late at night. Just leave it up for 24 hours.
Why? I asked.
It will be funny, you said.
I don't know what you had in mind. 
But here's...this.)