3AM

dummycake

Already daydreamed about this interaction
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You look by your side, she's still there.

You were afraid that she would disappear out of nowhere, you were afraid that she would go away without saying goodbye.

You couldn't deal with something like that again, so you're relieved, relieved you can reach and touch her, hug her, feel her body warmth.

She's here.

And she will always be.
 

K5Rakitan

Level 34 👪 💍 Pronouns: she/whore ♀
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It's always 3am somewhere
 

Hasu_Riri

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Ah, 3 AM, the mystical witching hour, or is it the time for demons to party? Perhaps the gods are peeking down from above, who knows? Why did you wake up at this ungodly hour? Did some ghostly fingers graze your cheek? Did a tidal wave of regrets flood your dreams, jolting you awake? Did a spectral figure loom by your bedside, or was it just a heap of laundry you ignored for too long? Anyway, it's 3 AM, definitely time for that oh-so-essential cup of coffee.
 

doravg

106/4001 (too lazy to count the stories again.)
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I pledge to write a BL story for this one! Probably another novella, but I am hopeful it might end up bigger! And now I have the cover!
doravg drei uhr morgens.jpg
 

Ai-chan

Queen of Yuri Devourer of Traps
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Now it’s three in the morning…

You smash the button to turn off the alarm. As you look at the time displayed on the alarm, you wonder, "Why the fuck did the alarm ring at 3?"

You think it must be your girlfriend who changed the alarm time just to fuck you up. So you call for her. But as the fog of sleep disappears, you understand the truth. Truth that you actually do not have a girlfriend. Your last popular period was when you were 17. Now you are 45. You realize you are going to be forever alone, without anyone wanting you and you will die alone.

So you go back under the covers, crying yourself to sleep.
 

Cortavar

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3AM. It's the dead of night. The town is finally silent, save for the occasional car passing in the distance, a lone traveller, a late party goer, someone coming back from their lover, an half-asleep police patrol.

It's not yet time for crime, you'd have to wait an hour or so for everything to really shut down, but not too long, else the early risers would disturb you. It is too late for regular vice either, bars are closed, clubs are full, dealers are getting their beauty sleep, working girls have stopped working.

It's a liminal time, an in-between for dreamers and insomniacs, to whom, at that particular hour, the town belongs. It's the moment when you know you should be asleep, but that strange peace draws you out.

Maybe you sit on your window's ledge, your feet dangling in the eternal void that a first floor becomes at that time. Maybe you're looking at the stars, those that manage to outshine the dwindling artificial lights of the city. Maybe you're walking, enjoying the feelings of familiarity and otherness that come with the hour. Maybe you're just fighting for sleep, trying to find the dream that will carry you to slumber.

But deep down, you know why you're awake. You're awake because you need that pause, that stillness, that moment for yourself. At that time, you aren't any more one of a multitude, a number lost amongst so many others. No, you are one of the select few who are able to enjoy the night, the real one, the one where you can feel the pulse of the world at it's slowest.

At that time, you are one with it, and with the others who know the secret of the night. You do not need to meet them, you do not even need to see them, you just know they're there, because once you've found that secret hour, it never leaves you. You may forget the night, but she'll remember you, she'll call you, and in that time of stillness, you will answer, time and again.
 
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