You can't help but sleep.

It’s the time of year that we go to the beach and the little house that sits on it. It’s webbed in by spiders and coated with a thick layer of dust from a quiet winter but no pipes are broken, the heater Paul installed last fall works, and the dead car batter was easily fixed.

At night it’s so dark here. There aren’t any streetlights poking through the cracks in the blinds. Unless there’s a bright moon reflecting off the water, I can’t tell if my eyes are open or closed because the blackness is exactly the same.