Sleep, like water, is a need that is too urgent. The privileged have made it a luxury, a hidden paradise constructed for spoiled experiences. What is left of that moment in daily life? Sitting in a closet might be the new space and position for rest, which I did not acquire. A mattress, a pillow, could become forgotten antiques, specialty items for barter or battle.

It took a while to fall asleep in the bed of a, I assume, a dead person. The endorphins I earned finally overwhelmed my sore body and paranoia, though I feel the three exterminators are waiting for me. The room I chose has a picture-perfect view of my elementary school. Part of the building is on fire and I can hear it slowly crumble from the exhaust.

Will I survive this invasion? I have not traveled far and the silence is only a warning of more to come.

Will I make it to the USA? The distance to my house will be difficult enough to travel and I do not know how far it is to the borders. I’ve never seen them.

How will I make it to the next territory?

I have to get home!