The ringing in Jack’s head had a viable source for once. He held the phone up to his ear as the robotic reverberant noise continued on for a few more seconds. The bags under his eyes were heavy, weighing and dragging down like his spirits. Though he was aching for an ounce of slumber, sleep would not overtake him.

His eyes were well-adapted to the overhanging darkness of the room from lying in it for so long. His pale-blue eyes traced the dark silhouette of the dead plant, the wooden desk, the lamp thats bulb had blown out a few days ago. He needed to replace that. The air was too frigid to sleep in, yet, the bedsheets that tangled around his form were far too humid to lay under.

The ring continued to buzz from the cellular device. He hoped you weren’t asleep either. You usually weren’t. Work always kept you up late, but if you were sleeping he’d feel dreadful about taking away your much needed rest.

He didn’t enjoy disturbing you. He didn’t enjoy anything. He didn’t like that it had become a habit to call you when the usual insomniatic tendencies washed over him. He couldn’t sleep. He could close his eyes but he couldn’t find rest behind them, just darkness.

ring…..ring…..ring….. click!

A small sigh left him as you finally answered his call. The dimly lit luminescent screen shone from the silver flip phone in his hand, the time reading: 2:42 a.m. in small incepted digits.

He moved, back pressing against the small metal headboard as he let his head lean on the dry wall behind him with a soft thud. He never knew how to start conversations with you. Or anyone. His eyes closed and instead of the darkness he visualized you in your house, your room, your bed. Though he had never been to it nor seen it. He imagined how it would look with you in it.

He waited for you to speak. He preferred when you started instead of himself.