Sometimes, I'll walk alone in the dark of the house. All the lights off, everyone asleep, and I'll just wander up and down the hall, through the kitchen, trying not to touch anything, nothing at all.

I can't see, and I can pretend that I'm in the middle of a large living room, that there's nothing but empty space near me, and if I jump and stretch I still won't be able to touch the ceilings.

But when I spin around in the dark, and brush against a wall, I follow it back to the bedroom, where I end up sitting in front of the computer again, smoking a cigarette.

And I don't understand why that makes me so sad.