Walking home in a haze of confusion, of exhaustion.  The sun is too bright, sadistic in its relentless rays of light and the tears it brings to weary eyes.  People pass; they’re barely noticed.  There are sounds:  traffic, screaming children, streetcars closing and opening, the slap of a backpack against my hips.  There are sounds and sights, but they are nothing now.

I just need to stop, and sleep.

The phone rings the moment I step inside.  I’ve left work and I’m home; why are they calling?  “Blah, blah, did you take these home, blah?”  I want to cry.  I say no.  I turn off the phone.

I just want to sleep.

Day 328:  Sleep – The Dandy Warhols