I wake up in the middle of the night with a dry throat. A quick check on the digital clock tells me it's twenty minutes past one in the morning. I hate when this happens.
Reaching for the water bottle from the nightstand, I groan when it's light in my hand. It's empty. I really should start stocking up bottles in my room. I feel quite lazy to drag my butt out of bed and go down to the kitchen to get myself some water at this hour.
Without a choice, I roll out of bed and shove my feet into fluffy slippers. Before going out, I stop by the window, peel the curtain to the side, and watch the sky. It's overcast and I can barely see the moon from here. But the darkness above looks beautiful.
It's kind of crazy how I've been in Chicago for nearly a month now and yet I haven't really seen much of the city. The cold weather doesn't help, so it's a bad idea to come here during winter—not that I could've controlled my coming here.