Dark mornings are still with us

I had forgotten how the world changes for the sleep deprived. Another chest infection for the little man, another run of unsettled nights for us. I sit on the tube in my own little bubble, hyper aware of my loud thoughts and the smallest movements of those around me. There’s a middle aged lady opposite me with her eyes closed; a few minutes ago she was frowning at her coffee cup. It clearly let her down. The young and well presented man next to me pulled a tub out of a scruffy plastic bag and moisturised specific areas of his forehead. The big headphones everywhere are starting to freak me out, like the ear version of enormous bug eyes. 

Today will be fuelled by caffeine, worry and sneaked peaks at photos of the boy. 

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