She was changing sides on the bed. Trying hard to fall asleep. Everything was fine, she knew everything would be fine. There was a nagging thought though. Something on which she could not lay her finger on. Like a question. What had she done to deserve a good night’s sleep ? Images of the morning swept across her eyes. A random kid under someone’s wheels. The mourning wails, the confusion, negotiation. Maybe she should have done something. Something meaningful instead of making money. Did her money mean anything to children who die everyday ? She knew the answer but pretended not to. Instead, she popped in a few pills and waited for sleep to come.