Not Real Sara rolled over for the third time in the last half hour, the clock's red numbers told her it was 4:17 in the morning, something that could also have been deduced from her lack of wanting to get up and go to the bathroom. This is why she had originally woken up, stupid delicious ice tea, she thought ruefully. Finally after knowing that sleep wouldn't come until she had gotten up, Sara rolled out of bed and carefully made her way over the many shirts and pants that had been carelessly thrown on the floor earlier in the day. She made her way through the hallway and down the stairs using nothing but her 17 years of experience and memory of navigating her own house, because the only light she had to go by was the weak light from the moon that occasionally filtered down through the clouds and into the quiet house. She had chosen the downstairs bathroom because she didn't want to wake anyone up.