Crashbox

Why are some folks night owls? It doesn't make sense when the sun is going and all the world creeps into its various hiding places that one would be filled with the desire to be up and doing. An anticipation perhaps. Or something darker...? But I am one. And the mood of the night calls, pleads with me not leave it for my bed, not to be wrapped in the warmth of that great quilted comforter; no, to come away under the moon, slide silently beneath the trees and frowning windows while others snooze. Is there really adventure here, in the chill, or does the pretty frail moon lie to me...?