Bedbugs kicked me out of bed at fifteen minutes past one. Their asses must be on fire. Dubai’s tormenting heat won’t cease chasing them out of their hiding places.
Wrapping my body in a blanket, I went outside to gaze at stars and wash my face with moonbeams. What I found were two pale dots – barely silver, hardly bright. Disappointed, I let out a sigh.
I thought I’d hung the blanket to make it warm and bug-free while reading Game of Thrones Part 3. I tend to grab a book when I’m sad. A good book is a great friend you can always keep and open anytime you need it. George R.R. Martin never fails to engage me as soon as I leaf through the pages.
My cheeks warmed whenever Martin described Tyrion’s encounter with Shae. My heart skipped a beat when Arya’s pack got into trouble. I wasn’t so fond of Catelyn. I think Martin effectively made her a frequent victim of circumstances. Surly (Jon) Snow used to be a bore; however, lately, his gallantry is more noticeable.
Tyrion, Arya, Catelyn, and Jon kept me company till sunrise. I skimmed a bit about Sansa then decided to close the book. I’m not so fond of victims.