And As Always…
It's long past midnight in our quiet, sleepy little desert community, listeners. You should be asleep, instead of still awake, reading about being still awake. You should not be reading at all.
Books are still technically illegal, as we all know. Reading occupies a legal gray area, but come on, you know you're taking advantage of a technicality.
Most of the other good citizens are asleep, as you peek in on them through the inherently voyeuristic medium of written narrative.
Koschek sleeps hovering in place four feet above the ground in the men's room, near the sink, because as a hovering eldritch cat-thing, he has no choice but to hover.
Hovering is intrinsic to his nature, you might say.
In sleep, he chooses to defy his personal antigravity in the one way he can, by sleeping on his back, drooling, his purple tongue poking between his front fangs. He snores. A lot.
But he's still kind of cute with his front paws tucked up under his chin, the coiled tendrils of his whiskers wrapped around them.
He lies stretched out in the heat and light of imagined suns, twitching and dreaming.
Read the rest via the link in the description!