Morning sneaks in, interrupting Sam’s complicated relationship with the dark. Daylight is a unwelcome companion, daring him to try again.
He doesn’t move.
He blames gravity. Climate change. The anticipated end of democracy. The misunderstood Oxford comma and the death of Princess Leia, overpriced and under brewed coffee, Covid, the Cloud, and used bookstores with closed forever signs.
Sam is young and doesn’t yet understand the cost of caring deeply. When March snow is piled high and hard and gray, the promise of spring seems unconvincing.
A cat might help. He might name her Misery, and she could keep him company.