the same as being in

It's never clear why these nights happen, but some nights I know right away I'm not going to sleep. It's usually a night that fades into silence. Any initial companions I have retire for the evening, leaving me alone with my coffee and whatever I'm working on to try to keep me awake or otherwise occupied.

Last night, though, without any prompting, a friend of mine offered to stick around, since I was going to be awake anyway. It was nice to have someone there--early on we joked and talked a lot, but by morning it was silent. She read her book and I continued writing. Eventually it was late enough in the morning the trains had started running again, and we took one to the diner, and ordered coffee and tried to make conversation, but found ourselves too tired for it.

We finished eating. All the colors were morning-brilliant outside, all the greens and fresh browns of summer, and our little dark wood table was littered with spilled sugar and discarded napkins and empty glasses. "Staying up all night is starting to feel like it was the wrong decision," I said. It was seven. Hours to go before the day was over.

"Really? I had fun. I'm glad I did."

While I don't remember most of what we talked about now, I remember everything we didn't need to say.