C75 75

I can’t sleep. Tossing and turning for hours since Bryant brought us home in a cab, yet I don’t want to get out of bed and disturb Greta. She’s a light sleeper, even if she drunk a lot and would hear me wandering about. She looked exhausted, and I didn’t want to burden her with my problems until morning. One of us should be well-rested, at least. My head’s too messy