the end of a less than satisfactory day

a layer of frigid night air still clings to my body
and unsettledness creaks between my back and the chair as my roommate turns in slumber,
her breathing a hum over the groans of the heater,
weary.
a sigh is heaved as the last car signals 3 a.m. with a woosh.
I know without pulling back the heavy blinds that the headlights are reflecting off the pavement, slickened by grey snow.
and somewhere despite all the trying and failing and
sometimes not trying,
between the crying and the being yelled at and
disappointing,
turquoise comforters and the aftertaste of chocolate milk beckons dreams and escape.