Chicken Joe............................... Samuel Crosby

Way Past Midnight

nonfiction by Collin Do

Slouched in the chair, your posture is beyond crooked––twisted like headphone wires. Your roommate fell asleep hours ago. Te monitor lights bathe your desk in blue, slicing into the ink black of your room. Te blue blades strain your eyes. You peek at the readings you should’ve done four hours ago. It’s already 3 a.m. No point in worrying about it now.

Te brain moves your fngers mindlessly. Mouse clicks and keyboard clacks penetrate the room’s silence. You haven’t enjoyed the game for hours, but it’s something to do––an activity to ignore everything else, even if it’s a cheap illusion.

Te last of tens of matches played that night ends in an apathetic loss. You power the computer down and stare into the blank monitor. Your mind begins to race against your will. Too bad you didn’t stay up late enough to stop thinking. You crawl into bed and check your phone. Te time reads 5:21 a.m. Two hours of sleep is plenty.

Back when school began, you set your phone background to ask, Is what you’re doing really worth it? You refect for a moment on the question, even though at this point it’s rhetorical. You know the answer and regret what it is. v

Te Talon 2022