Still. Small. Moment.

I like to read a little, last thing before I turn out the lights and go to sleep.

When I do this--even if he's spent the entire evening on the couch or under the table ignoring the silly humans--Toby comes and lies down on the pillow next to me, and rubs the book if it has not been properly marked as his, and just flumps comfortably there and sleeps the night through if it has.

I am avoiding going to bed.

Not tired.

Really.

Firk dang blast.

That is the second time today someone has taken my forearm in a casually friendly gesture.

That is *also* the second time today that they have done so with a force that would have been utterly negligible if it hadn't been right over the healing iron burn.

(Did I mention operating on ~4 hours sleep?)

Gah. I'm going home and packing.