Journal Entry

04.12 AM

He didn’t arrive. He flickered into being — born from the static between my thoughts, summoned by the quiet hum that fills the room when sleep refuses to land.

I’ve seen him before, I think. Curled in the dark, cradling that small orb like it belongs to a dream I’ve forgotten. He doesn’t speak. He simply glows, and the light hums softly in the silence.

No one knows his name.

Perhaps he doesn’t have one.

Perhaps he is only the shape my sleeplessness takes when it wants to be gentle.

I watch him from the edge of waking.

He watches nothing at all.

He simply holds the light.