I can't sleep.

I roll over onto my side and punch one of the extra pillows pulling it against my stomach. I think about going out to the kitchen for a shot or two of the Cuban rum I picked up in Havana today, but I fear that Pedro will see the light and think it is an invitation to come inside for a visit. I turn over again and sigh, staring at the faint light in the hall. I've been leaving the washroom light on with the door partially closed as a makeshift nightlight for the ...