The nearly full moon peers down through a thin haze, and I feel like a hedgehog, all spiky and sensitive at the same time.
I see our downstairs neighbor just as I'm about to take the dog back up from her evening walk, and I remark how tired I am.
"Y'all hit it pretty early, like ten-thirty or so, right?" he says (it's a little past ten-thirty as we're speaking).
"Yeah, but I'm getting up at six these days to write," I say, feeling lame, "so, you know."