I heard you talking in your sleep. Word salad. It was funny; I wanted to remember it so I could tell you. But I was sleepy, too, and I forgot. It was nonsense, but it made it all feel real.
The next time, I remember. “At least they’ll be pretty.” A conclusion without the argument; a punchline without the joke. I want to know you, to know what you’re thinking in that honest place between awake and asleep.