Tell me five things you can see.
I can see the glimmering flame of a scented candle. It's spiced gingerbread, or pumpkin spice sugar cookies, or something. The flame dances above the wick, swirling hypnotically in my vision.
I can see my cat, curled up and sleeping soundly beside me. His little chest is rising and falling slowly, and his ears flick every now and then. His paws are embedded into the fabric of my dressing gown.
I can see my lamp, shining a warm yellow light across the room. The body is a dull chestnut brown, but the shade is silvery and glinting with spilled glitter from when I was young and played with fairy dust.
I can see my ring, golden and inscribed with some Hobbit language on both the inside and the outside. I wear it everywhere. It's a bit wet. I just washed my hands.
I see the moth sitting in the corner of the room. It's waiting for me to turn the big lamp on, I think. It's very small, with its wings all tucked in into a little rectangle. I haven't named it.
Tell me four things you can feel.
I can feel the soft cotton fabric of my duvet, running slightly coarse under my fingers as I rub it absently. It's rippling slightly from my fan.
I can feel the air from my fan gently lifting my hair off my pillow, blowing cool winds over my hot neck and chilling my exposed hands.
I can feel my wall and the paint chips flaking off it down the side of my bed. I can feel a small hole in the wall, creaking slightly when I push it.
I can feel my glasses resting on my nose, slightly slipping each second. There's a wisp of hair stuck in the hinge, and I gently pull it out.
Tell me three things you can hear.
I can hear the quiet buzzing of my laptop, humming monotone beside me, its heat slightly warming my ankles.
I can hear my fan whirring, singing out its little tune as it rotates around the room, occasionally clicking as it knocks against a bottle of body spray or cologne.
I can hear my cat purring softly as he sleeps. He sneezes every once in a while, and he burrows into his paws with a small squeak as I watch.
Tell me two things you can smell.
I can smell my candle burning away, a Christmassy scent that reminds me of watching old Netflix shows with a mug of mulled wine or gingerbread latte.
I can smell my cologne, a Diesel scent that's intoxicating. It's calming, and reminds me of sitting around a picnic table with my friends, rolling dice and leaning on each other too close.
Tell me one thing you can taste.
I can ******* toothpaste, gritty and sweet mint flavoured. If I lick my lips, I can still taste a bit of the ice cream I was eating - chocolate caramel.
Please relax, and go to sleep. You're too tired. I love you. Goodnight. I'll talk to you tomorrow.
