The milky moonlight streams in from the window and spreads over the ragged quilt of the small boy. The night is too silent, and there are no crickets to chirp. Sometimes he pretends they are singing him to sleep; the way his mother used to. He squeezes his eyes shut, but not because he's afraid of the monsters under his bed, but because he desperately wants to fall asleep. In his dreams, the little boy attends feasts and eats all the food he can imagine. He squeezes his eyes again, but the anticipation keeps him awake. He then presses down on his stomach, so that it doesn't feel as hollow.