It happened again, two things: 1. Forgetting the amazing idea I thought of while falling asleep, the idea I believed so amazing that there would be no possible way that I would forget upon awakening, but I have, as usual, and 2. Going to sleep moody from saying mean things. Why do I say such things? I suppose these things wring themselves in my brain, quicker and quicker, like a washing machine, that finally there is no where else to go but out. And they fly out of my mouth with no restraint. I whimpered a bit in the night to get him to notice me, for him to awaken and ask me worriedly—“What’s wrong? Are you having a nightmare? It’s OK—I’m here!” But he slept soundly, without a smidge of movement that I turned up the volume on my whimpers. He slept lovely; nothing bothered him, he had a clear conscience. Oh! There you go, dangling my heart out of your mouth like a cigarette.