The Somnambulist Sentry

The solitary figure walks slowly and quietly down the hallways of his home, and silently through each room. He casts no shadow in the darkness of the wee hours of the morning and his careful steps are intentional as not to wake anyone.

His hands clasped behind his back, he walks back and forth like a prison guard making his rounds. He stops only to peek through the windows but knows not what he’s looking for. On clear nights, the moonlight greets him as he pulls back the curtains. He nods his head toward the glowing orb in the sky and then turns to continue his walk.

If he were sleeping during these nightly jaunts, he might be called The Somnambulist Sentry. But sleep escapes him and he is wide awake as he performs his custodial duties.

This nocturnal night watch happens far too often since she’s been gone. Broken sleep fills his nights and exhaustion rules his days. If she were home again, and enveloped in his arms, sleep would gladly return.

As he returns to his bed, daylight is still hours away. But he knows his eyes will soon open again and he will arise to pursue his vexing vigil once more.

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