A soft cry, its cry, sounded off in the night as dependably as a clock’s chime. There were hushed, foreign toes on soft sand and the desire for confrontation soared to new altitudes. I had to encounter it, to corner it, to make it mine. The once-muted skittering grew louder. Suddenly, a glimpse in the periphery of my vision… the exotic 100% On A Final. I extended my hand to meet it, closer, closer -
As it dissolved into a flurry of smoke and haze, I awoke. Covered in drool and highlighter, I looked down at the mess of studying materials I had made my pillows. Another all-nighter that had become an illusion of success.