A quiet night

It's a quiet night. One of those nights where you can almost hear yourself think. I'm chatting with my sister online. It's eleven in the morning where she is, and she is practising the piano.

She sends me a funny picture of her dog. Her Superdog pose, she says.


Superdog stretches and falls asleep mid-stretch, she tells me. I think it's hilarious.

Superdog just flicked my sister's hand off the piano. My sister tells that she had been neglecting Superdog since she started working out in the school gym, and so that she will go take a walk with her now. Go walk your doggie, I say. And off they go.

And it is seventeen minutes past midnight here, and I sit in front of my Macbook, with my MSN contact list for company.

I wonder what they are thinking, or if they are thinking about me.