I return home from my day to find a distinct haze has overcome my apartment. Its occupants lay on beds, frozen in their last poses, lights on, doors ajar, as if surprised by the immediacy with which sleep took hold. Even the ever-active dog only lazily opens one eye at my arrival before shrugging away the thought of motion and breathing back into stillness. In my room, objects lay haphazardly strewn about, the chaos and movement of it all making it impossible for the haze to find me. Padding outside in bare feet, I look to the sky to bring me serenity but am met with the brightness of day, concocted by lights and street lamps. The sky glows a startling, deep purple from the sleeplessness of the town beyond the horizon. It seems possible that there are others impatiently waiting for this plum sky to impossibly fade to pure darkness. Perhaps, one day, when the lights run out and the Earth is as it was meant to be, even we can find rest.