A short night but a deep sleep. Drove into work at the commuter hour, with eyes so puffy the delicate skin’s stretching was palpable with each blink. Walking like a zombie room to room, building to café. Bought a hot chocolate and a thick slice of white chocolate banana bread. A man in line worked hard to have his gaze reciprocated—aren’t the circles evident? He sees the brilliant sweater, the back of the head, and it’s enough to want to check out the face. (He must be a morning person.) Later a Coke on the desk subsidized wakefulness, after the laptop died and all that was left to do was wait to go home. A half workday like this felt short, like a whole day would be a breeze. But at home the same long arms of slumber waited and enclosed in those came a long nap.