Illustration by Julia Kim
In the tender hours of twilight, I watch until the last traces of pink and purple fold into the transparent grey that substitutes for night. In the wee hours before dawn, I hear the gate below creaking in the slow wind. And in the sleepless hours in between, I listen to the mechanical tick of some unknown device keeping irregular time, my upstairs neighbor's unsteady shufflings, tight-lipped yelps as my dog warns his dreamland companions.
