Standstill
They say that time just flows along, a river whose speed and intent are oblivious to you and me and all of our silly feelings. Janet knows better. She knows that time stays up at night, watching her, waiting to come to a virtual stop just when she most needs it to move along, to get on with its business. The worst nights - trying escape from herself - are those she goes to bed early, sleeps for minutes that feel like days, then wakes to anxious, unresolved misgivings.
Lost in the silent company of her own unhappiness, Janet gets out of bed, walks to the window, and looks out at Tuesday night’s blackness.
