Late Night Habits

• Yeonwoo Chang, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2022

Light scratches from the bedroom door made by the cat. I heard it push against it multiple times, then giving a devastated and frustrated meow, followed by light paw steps to the other door. I felt bad for it, and I probably would have opened it without hesitation if I wasn’t this tired. I could only lie down and stare up at the ceiling, decorated with small uncovered spots, peeled off along with the glow-in-the-dark star stickers. I took them off when I was an anxious child at nine, scared it would fall into my mouth while sleeping and accidentally swallow it.

The only thing audible in the room was the street lamp flickering amongst the sensible purring of the cars in the night. It seemed as if they had the knowledge to keep quiet at near midnight - such manners. It seemed as if it’s been over a few hours that I lay awake after I got in bed. I fumbled for the alarm clock that I kept under my pillow so only I could hear it in the morning: and did my usual night-habit. I clicked the snooze button to make it light up a dim azure. It felt like yesterday when it used to glow a fluorescent blue; but either way it shone on my face in the pitch dark. The clock showed 10:34 pm, 25th of August. I tilted it side to side, making the digital numbers disappear and come back. It was like a hallucination trick. I closed my eyes, the shadow of the numbers still visible in an eye drift.

The sheets underneath my bed started to stir and move. A few groans gave me the cue to turn off the bed heater. I’d always forget, though I always found a way to remember. I reluctantly sat up and went down the bunk bed, trying not to wake up the creaking sound of the fragile ladder that barely supported my weight anymore. Turning off the red glow beside my sister’s bottom bunk, the throbbing sound of the heatwaves stopped. The rustling of the blankets paused, the signal that the ten-year-old was asleep.

My hair still wet from the late night swimming, I turned my body to my right side, my cheeks being tickled by the rough towel over my pillow. I could hear one last running of a car down my driveway. Thinking of the late night worker who got back home at this hour, it reminded me of when my dad used to come home late. I used to pretend I was asleep as he came into our room to check on us, to later hum the song that he always played from his album during dinner. He’d close the lights, hang his wet coat, and go to sleep.

?? ??? ?? ??,
(whenever it rains on a gloomy day)

?? ???? ? ????,
(just like the movie you used to hate)



??? ??? ?—
(a day only filled with reminisce)