To Sleep, Perchance
The past few nights insomnia plagued, but finally exhaustion claimed me. I wasn’t asleep long, maybe ten minutes when Coco tugged on my t-shirt.
“Go to sleep.”
Her teeth dug into the cotton. She growled. While I wanted to sleep, I also didn’t want to have to deal with the aftermath of diarrhea.
I pulled on sweatpants and flipflops, shrugged into my hoodie and left the apartment building. Coco pulled on her leash, which she hadn’t done in years, yanking me toward the park.
We weren’t far from the building when howls rose, followed by a boom. I thought: a bomb, but then the earth trembled. Coco barked and jumped at my legs; I picked her up. She buried her face in my neck beneath my hair. The earth shook so much I fell to the grass.
Streetlights extinguished, the poles swayed. Then the shuddering stopped. Car alarms bellowed. Voices rose, panicked, confused.
Still carrying Coco, I walked toward my building and stopped. Dust hovered like fog. The front wall had been sheared away. The roof rested on the floor of my bedroom where fifteen minutes before I’d desired long, uninterrupted sleep.
To read more Sunday Photo Fiction Stories for the 10/2/2016 prompt, click here.