Watching the Rain Fall

I have the urge to write.  I should be asleep. Sunday night I have class at 9 am. Instead I’m sitting in my dark room, not wanting to unplug the space heater to deprive myself of heat in the -3 C cold and fog, oh, and listening to Wait, Wait,  Don’t Tell Me! (Best thing on radio). And I’m putting my mom’s Dixie Chicks CD (stole it, she doesn’t know yet) on to my iTunes Library. Why is it I always want to write at this hour. Two nights past it was on my story. The scene when a certain military leader comes to a certain adolescent girl trained in medicine to tell her that the medicine won’t come.  Then the scene later (4 years later) when he talks to her about that conversation and first hints that his loyalties may not lay where many may think. I thought it came out well… but then again it was quarter past one.