“Finally Sleep” by Gissel Reynoso
“Ready to go?” the store manager asks me. I respond almost too excitedly: “Most definitely, I am exhausted.” To say I am exhausted is an understatement. I don’t remember the last time I got a full night’s sleep.
“Ready to go?” the store manager asks me. I respond almost too excitedly: “Most definitely, I am exhausted.” To say I am exhausted is an understatement. I don’t remember the last time I got a full night’s sleep.
Time is relative, so Einstein told us. I am sure he was right—I’m not really qualified to contradict one of the world’s greatest scientists—but motherhood has taught me that distance is relative, too.
At the Mind Bar, they each took a chair with a Mind Specialist, overhead lights beating down on each of them at their individual station.
His legs ached as he cleared each oversized stair, the taste of acid burning the back of his throat. Slowly he climbed the face of the foothill known locally as The Incline.
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