For Ben, who slept for 6 hours out of 85 last weekend.

...Mr. Sandman got into the backseat as soon as it started to get dark.

"Hey, Brendan, I haven't seen you in so long."

"Go away, can't you see I'm busy?"

"Busy doing what? Looking at trees? Come on, I've been waiting to put you to bed for like a week now."

"I've slept, I slept last night."

"Last night you were too tired to sleep."

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"Look, you've been giving me the slip since Colorado. Sleeping just shy of REM, waking up every hour and a half, when did you start drinking coffee anyway?"

Fighting with him made me tired. Yawning, I tried opening his door and giving him the boot. But he was sitting on my backpack and I didn't want to risk losing my camera if it fell out.

"Look, just," . His face went blank as he answered the phone in his jacket pocket.

"Hello?…Well, kind of…look, now is—…Honey, I—…uh-huh…Chop suey?"

"Jesus, will you take that outside?"

"Just a minute!…No, not you, honey...No, I'm sorry...Do you have any idea what time it is out here?…I'll be home in like half an hour, we can discuss it then?…How is that anywhere close to being on the way home?…No, I…I—"

I fell asleep before he even hung up.