She had been tired for days, now. Although it was partially her own fault. She had a tendency to get distracted when she was tired, and this had in turn led to a bad habit of essentially forgetting to go to bed. The more tired she became, the more likely it was that she would end up working on some project, or watching a video, or getting immersed in some news story. And it was hard to get enough sleep when you didn’t remember to go to bed until four in the morning. But today was different. Her fuzzy head had been giving her trouble all day, her lack of energy was reaching critical levels, and she had managed to forget the same simple errand seven times over the course of ten minutes. It was blatantly obvious that she had reached a level of tiredness that simply wasn’t sustainable. And in light of that, she had actually managed to drag her exhausted body into bed at a more or less reasonable time. And there she lay, all tucked in, eyes closed and head swimming with exhaustion. Nocturnal insects gently fluttered and chirruped outside her window, providing a pleasant counterpoint to the faint hum of electricity that was ever-present in modern homes. The scent of a summer night gently wafted through the open window, slightly muted by the fine mesh that covered it and the curtains beyond that, but still clear enough to be pleasant. But sleep refused to come. She tried her best to clear her mind. She diligently examined each and every thought as it came, addressing it quickly or making a mental note to do so at a later date, and then pushing it away. It was slow, methodical work, but it was effective. For a time, her mind was clear, her thoughts as blank as the darkness behind her closed eyelids. Yet sleep refused to come. With a small grumble, she tossed and turned, hoping against hope that perhaps a different position would lull her to sleep. It was a fool’s hope, of course. She only ever slept in exactly one position, and changing her posture away from it was never going to help. But she did manage to work out a little bit of the tension in her muscles, so some tiny amount of good did come of it in the end. But by and large, it was a wasted effort. And sleep refused to come. At a loss, she started trying supposedly sleep-inducing thought exercises. She counted sheep, but the mental image that accompanied the rising number of imagined ovines only served to make her exhausted mind dizzy. She tried listing prime numbers next, but she didn’t actually know enough of them for it to do much good. And humming a lullaby to herself only served to get the tune stuck in her head. So sleep refused to come. A gentle rain began to fall, changing the soundscape filtering in through the window. The gentle patter was pleasant, almost hypnotic. A soft, formless noise that spoke of cooler air and refreshing scents in the day to come. It felt like such a lovely sound to fall asleep to, and so she could do nothing but ask herself... Why sleep refused to come. As the rain passed, birdsong gradually rose outside her window, heralding the coming of the dawn. The edges of her window grew lighter as the early morning sunlight peeked in around the edges of the curtain. The very world itself seemed eager and energetic, rising up to greet the coming of a brand new day. As sleep refused to come. But she didn’t care any longer. She was too tired to care about sleeping. She was too tired to care about much of anything. Her head was filled with a dense, grey fog. Her limbs were too heavy to move. Her thoughts were fractured and confused. Slowly, gradually, everything slipped away. At long last, her form relaxed, her breathing stilled, her thoughts shifted into dreams… Her alarm arrived with eager punctuality.