Above, the lights from the apartment, etched with the linings of brick, flicker until only one remains. The stubborn light shines from the third floor, second apartment to the right. The windows are obscured by an orange and yellow cloth. Shadows dance and turn, obscuring the light shining through. A faint hum lazily saunters to the driver’s seat of my unassuming white sedan.

I gently hum along, as I pull the blanket over my head and think about how I wish I was sleeping. I hear footsteps approaching, interrupting the ambiance and my train of thought. It gets darker— it´s not difficult to tell through an eighth of an inch of cheap fabric. The darkness lingers and I pray that it´s not a cop who will make me move for the second time tonight.

I hold my breath and do my best to be inconspicuous: just your run-of-the-mill person-shaped pile of blankets, nothing to see here. I tug at the blanket from my waste. I see there’s a woman checking her teeth about two feet above me.

From the darkness I raise my thumb. She shrieks, unlocks the door, and disappears into the stairwell.

The light from the apartment on the third floor, second from the right, vanishes.

I drift into sleep with better lighting and no more distractions.