Insomniac City: A vignette, by Shanelle Sorensen

Image from stevekeiretsu on flickr: https://www.flickr.com/photos/stevekeiretsu/16415388115/
Image from stevekeiretsu on flickr: https://www.flickr.com/photos/stevekeiretsu/16415388115/

In the city, it never gets dark.

You close the blinds or shut the curtains. You turn off your phone and your lamp. There is still enough light to cast shadows of everything. Still enough to make sure you don’t stub your toe when you’re walking to the bed. Except, of course, you still do.

The city lights bathe the room in a dim yellow glow and the whoosh of city noise fills the corners. People that are used to dark country nights—lit by nothing but the moon and a hundred constellations—could find it hard to sleep.

There are no constellations in the city. No Big or Little Dipper. No Hercules. Only a solid gray sheet of low-hanging sky. And when you look out the window at one o’clock in the morning, there are just as many signs blinking that they’re open as there are at one in the afternoon.

Sirens. Headlights. Engines. Streetlights.

The city is insomniac.


 

Shanelle (@ShanelleWrites on Twitter) fell in love with words at the age of two. Everything else is immaterial.

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