She wakes up regularly, in the middle of the night. I know this not because I too awaken alongside the hall light or the slight sounds of her midnight scuffle. I remain steadfast in sleep, tangled in my sheets with cold sweats and stressful Ambien-induced dreams. I dream that I am chasing my animals amidst the dangerous streets of my subconscious and no one can save their souls from the swerving vehicles but me.
Little do I realize that my animals are perfectly safe, and awake at 2am wandering to the refrigerator with my sister. She wakes up regularly, in the middle of the night, and I know this from daybreak’s evidence: as I put the teakettle on the front burner and turn on the gas to boil water for the French pressed coffee, I see a clear glass cup that was not there just the night before when I finished loading the dishwasher. It has a crusted ring of dried orange juice glued to the bottom. Then I notice the empty fruit snacks wrapper crumbled on the counter, and when I grab the half and half from the fridge I count one less Reese’s peanut butter cup.