Guest 1337 POV.
It was late. The middle of the night. Guest 1337 lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He did this almost every night. He got very few hours of sleep; afraid if he fell asleep something would happen. It was obvious PTSD. He was quiet, turning to his wife Daisy who was next to him. She was asleep, not noticing his obvious distress, she always figured he went to bed shortly after her. But that wasnβt true.
He decided to get up and grab a glass of water, running a hand through his hair. He quietly snuck into the kitchen, grabbing a small glass and filling it up. He took a sip, staring at it for a very long moment. The stars from the open window could be seen, glistening and shimmering without a word. The moon was as silky as a spiderβs web, soft and cool. It was a foggy night, so it was helpful he couldnβt overheat that easily tonight.
He sat down on the floor, sighing.