Insomnia strikes again.
My alarm is set to wake me in just a few hours to get ready for a four-hour shift in the produce department. Earlier this evening, or technically last night, I learned from one of the maintenance guys that the reason why one of my coworkers is a tad more gloomy than the rest of us, is that he didn’t get the assistant manager position a few months back. I never suspected just how deep-rooted his personality was.
About an hour ago, my sister came out into the porch-room with a pink box. Inside it was a firefly that had snuck into her room through the air conditioner. She opened the glass sliding door and held the box out into the night. The fly stayed, crawling up the sides of the flimsy cardboard. After a few minutes of shaking and ridicule, it flew back into the porch and bumped into random areas of the ceiling. My sister retreated to her room and I went back to reading a Gaiman short story. At some point, I decided to shut the lamp off and try to sleep. It seemed to happen on cue, though I might have actually dozed off and been awakened by my cat jumping on my back, then off onto the floor. I raised my head to see the firefly caught between its paws. With my foot, I sort of nudged the cat away and extended my index finger for the fly to climb on. I opened the sliding glass door as his lower body began to glow an eerie yellow-green and flew away. I had never held a firefly before.
Stage Fright 