When you’re tired, really tired, reality becomes a series of snapshots.

Your eyes begin to droop, they close for a moment of sweet darkness,
then reopen. You are now in a new snapshot; the world around you has
changed, if only in minute details.

Those details are the clearest things in your foggy mind.

The humming red of a car’s taillight.

The slow retreat of an old man’s pale hairline.

The fidgeting fingers of the person next to you.

These little signs of life are the basic construct to your half-awake world.

And suddenly

they’re beautiful.