'sometimes it's hard to sleep' she replied.
and thousands of miles away he decided that he would spend every hour she was awake thinking about her. hoping for some telepathic miracle. every morning reading the spilt coffee grounds for news of his distantly tired love. every afternoon sending bottles filled with babies breath and chamomile tea out to sea. every night chewing the morning coffee grounds to match her anti-sleeping patterns.
but on an ocean of oil and ink, she still couldn't sleep. and he still couldn't dream of her.
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