Midnight is an uncanny time.

You don’t want to be out and about.

SUNFLOWERS BY HARRY HAWKE 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 107

I can’t sleep again. I haven’t slept for three weeks. It doesn’t feel great. I blow my nose so hard my head deflates. I leave the house, lightheaded. As I turn the key I tell my possessions (not many, but enough) to stay safe.

My watch chirps midnight. Midnight is…