The quest to retrieve your precious pastries is on.

And you, in your infinite wisdom remember that sugar makes you sleepy, gently floating you away towards a greater body of rest, a river draining itself into the vast sea.
And if sugar so too should fail, at least you will be satisfied in your late snack, like a racoon basking in some great garbage.

But lo! A siren song from beyond your room calls to you, sweet with promise and sick with waiting: The box of donuts you left in the fridge.

There, in how it rattles the lungs; there, in how it presses against the eyes.
And you know in that moment that respite is futile; that surely you will never sleep and the night will never pass.

I close my eyes and the night is loud in its silence, taunting in its reminders that it is there to be slept through, and the weight of the dark presses so resolutely upon the ears like some deep howling horn, something made of a dark metal, hard and hollow, that is felt more than heard:

I found this helpful. It's a searchable list of starter packs.

blueskydirectory.com/starter-pack...