It was around 1:30 to 2:00 AM, and in the emptiness of your apartment, you found yourself quietly awake. The soft, steady rhythm of the rain against the wide windows, which covered the outer wall of your apartment, wrapped around you like a gentle lullaby. The occasional flicker of lightning, followed by a low, distant rumble of thunder, seemed to come from a world far away.

Your apartment, resting just above the tops of the trees, felt like a sanctuary above the city. Even though your window faced toward the woods, the usual glow of city lights was softened tonight by the rain, casting a cyan/blue hue into the room. It washed over everything—the pale sheets on your bed by the window, the walls, and even the gentle rise and fall of your chest—as though the night itself saw you as only another piece of furniture.

You lay there with headphones on, soft music playing in the background, blending seamlessly with the calming patter of raindrops, the trees outside rustling occasionally. Though your thoughts had been restless earlier, they seemed to slow now, lulled by the soothing ambience surrounding you. There was no rush, no urgency, just the gentle pull of the night encouraging you to let go.

The city below, blurred and softened by the rain, seemed to flicker in and out of focus as you gazed out of the window. The lights were distant, almost dreamlike, and you could feel the quiet settling into your bones, wrapping you in its stillness. You weren’t quite asleep, but you weren’t awake either, hovering in that delicate space between—where everything was just as it should be. The night held you gently, and you could almost feel the world telling you that it was okay to close your eyes.