Evan was reading through the book for a third time. Somehow he felt like reading it again and again. Of course, there was nothing better to do anyways. He had enough of looking at people’s faces. Evan was a store clerk by the day and an insomniac by the night. His day job compelled him to look at people and his night oddity propelled him to do the same. He felt it was better to go sit on the street and watch people than stare at a leaky ceiling in his not-so-spacious apartment.
Oh Evan! Poor Evan! He just couldn’t sleep! Only fatigue could close his eyes for an hour or so and he’s wide awake again. People, yes people, told him that he looked like crap. He could not help it! They just had to live with it!
Adding to the misery were his smoking and drinking habits. They were of no help either. His face had only skin tissue pulled over the skull. All the food was going down the hole. Nothing contributed to his fat. Oh Evan! Poor Evan! He just couldn’t sleep!
He kept looking at people all his life. Work, smoke, drink, look. Work, smoke, drink, look.
Oh GOD! Dear GOD! Why can’t he get some sleep? Screw all the therapies he thought. None of them worked. They were all money minting farces. If people thought they worked, then they were stupid!
He sat there on the street staring at the cover of the book he had read for a third time. The author’s name was DAVID SLEEPMAN. What an irony! He wondered whether the author slept well or not. Laughing, he lit a cigarette and pulled out his rusty whiskey flask. He gulped some drink out of it and started looking at people.
At around 4 A.M. an early bird jogging his life away, spots Evan lying unconscious on the sidewalk. The medics arrive soon and confirm him dead.The cops identify him as an unknown by the name EVAN. A store clerk.
Oh EVAN! Poor EVAN! Finally you have slept forever!