It's 3:15 in the morning. You don't want to be awake. You don't want to have to wake up tomorrow.
[[Try to sleep|Try to sleep]]
[[Try to occupy yourself with something|Try to occupy yourself with something]]
You close your eyes.
Your eyeballs feel shrink-wrapped, and your eyelids can't decide whether they want to hinge open or closed. You can vaguely taste toothpaste on your tongue.
A neighbor's porch light shines on across the street, directly between your curtains. You wonder what they're up to at three in the morning.
[[Keep on tryna sleep|Keep on tryna sleep]]
[[Investigate|Investigate]]
You don't have anything good to read. You also don't have anything good to write. You've been tragically uninspired for the past... You're not sure how long it's been since you wrote something you liked. You're not sure if, right now, you like anything you've ever written.
You've just noticed that light is giving you a headache.
[[Turn off the lamp|Turn off the lamp]]
Haha no. That's really not working for you. Now it sort of hurts to close your eyes (though keeping them open is only marginally less painful).
[[What the hell is going on out there?|Investigate]]
As you pull back the curtain, the light abruptly switches off. Your eyes scramble around in the new pitch darkness, but adjust quickly to see the moonlit street in front of your house.
There are figures - your neighbors, you guess - dashing around in the driveway. There's a big car, bulky and rectangular, parked there. The passenger side interior light is on, but it's doing nothing to make clearer what exactly is happening over there. You don't recognize the car, but it's dark and you're tired and ou barely know those neighbors anyway. It could be a family member's car. Hell, it could be //their// car. Come to think of it, you're not sure what their car looks like. It could be bulky and rectangular.
All at once, as if on some sort of signal that you'd missed, everyone across the street froze. The interior car light switched off. You had an overwhelming sense that the people in the driveway - there had to be at least five, maybe as many as ten of them - were all staring directly at you.
Goosebumps ripple up along your arms. You've never actually felt the instant that goosebumps raise themselves up on your skin - usually there's other things surrounding you, distracting you. The background noise is gone now. It's just you, and the dark, and your pebbly skin. And the neighbors. You worry that if you move they'll somehow see you more, see you better. You read somewhere about how sound and movement naturally attract people's attention. You also want to move out of what you are half-convinced is their direct line of sight, though.
[[Move|Move]]
[[Stay frozen|Stay frozen]]
There's still a light giving you a headache?
You glare at the lamp. It's off. The spiral-shaped eco-bulb is glowing sort-of greenish, but that might be more of a light imprint on your eyes than an actual glow. You're not sure if 'a light imprint on your eyes' is a real thing. You're not really that concerned about it.
The light is coming from outside your room.
[[Pull back your curtain|Investigate]]