Ficlets

The section of my ceiling directly covering my bed, has 46,357 “popcorns.”
I know, because every night, as the rest of the world sleeps, I lay in my bed and count.
I count popcorns on my ceiling, sheep’s in my head, the number of people in the background of any given T.V. show.
All I can do is count, because the one thing I can’t do is sleep.
I toss, I turn, I cry, I beg, I meditate, but I just can’t sleep.
Once counting gets old, I find new ways to pass the time, My newest, I study trivia.
I memorized the first Czar of Russia, Ivan IV.
The first reigning queen of England, Bloody Mary.
The first child born in the American Colonies, Virginia Dare.
I’ve also read seven books in the past month, learned how to cook seven new Slavic dishes and can say over twenty complete sentences in Galic.
After eight hours of sitting, laying, tossing, turning wrestling and hopelessly hugging my bed, the sun begins to shine its miserable rays upon my face.
Another day in hell, starts again.