City Lights at 3am

A window is both a frame and a door you haven't opened yet. At 3am the city doesn't ask anything of you. It just continues — the yellow lights, the occasional car, the person walking a dog who is the only one with anywhere to be. I used to think insomnia was a failure. Now I think it's the city offering you the version of itself it only shows to the ones still awake enough to look. I look. I try to deserve it.