Insomnia

"I don't care much for the night," Dave said as he exited the office late one evening. It was a simple building, and older than most of the city. Dave's work relied on light and this building was so old that it couldn't be properly out fitted with power. The generator in the back hummed, sputtered, clanked to a halt as Dave switched it off, hoping to conserve as much gas as possible for the remainder of the week. He looked back at his old office building in dismay. He always thought it would be easier to own his own business. The brick on the building was chipped in several places and windows were cracked, and some were completely broken. The roof leaked anytime it rained and sometimes when it didn't. The wooden door he exited from each night and entered each morning was in danger of falling off the hinges, but Dave did not have the money to make the necessary repairs. He wished now he had rented a building in the newer downtown area, but money was tight starting out, and when a humble old man offered to sell him the building out right Dave jumped on the opportunity.

Dave started walking home. The winter was the worst time of the year for him. He had tons of paper work, and not enough light to work with. The generator he was able to afford could only power a small wattage of lights and it simply was not enough to work with. My eyes are already bad enough, he thought as he pulled off his glasses to clean the snow from the lenses. Dave readjusted his hat to better cover his face and slid the bifocals back on his nose. Snow crunched under his feet as he trudged home. It was a particularly dead night and not even the moon dared to show his face. He had no car's headlights to light his path. All he had was the occasional street lamp, ...

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...n running again. The traffic around him thinned as he closed the distance, and the street became desolate and broken. Dave looked around. He saw his office in the distance, and the bustling and busy street that he had left behind. Down the road in the opposite direction it was just as busy, but here, between the two thresholds of civilization, it was deserted. Dave starred at the lamp for a long while. It sat there, flickering, and nothing else. Finally he stepped in the light. It was immediately cold. The snow picked up and swirled about him in a frenzy. He gathered his jacket about him, and began shuffling toward his run down office. He was more tired than he had ever been, and he was glad that it was night again.

Once inside, Dave started a fire in the fireplace. He laid his jacket down on the moldy, rotten carpet, and using his hat as a pillow, he fell asleep.