Desire at Two-Thirty

This is a story about desire at two-thirty in the morning.

At two-thirty in the morning, I was unable to sleep. I tossed and twisted beneath my heavy comforter, occasionally slipping my toes into the cool nighttime air. Even with eyes shut and hair bent stiff against my pillow, it was no use trying to dream. My subconscious sought exactly what my thoughts craved, and sleep would only make me forget.

And so, I tossed and twisted, thinking, maybe I could shake the thoughts off from my mind.

But this was an overpowering desire; it overwhelmed the deepest of deep sensibilities and left me wide awake late into the night, until, finally, I sat up in my bed. One could only ignore a desire for so long. I had to succumb eventually, admitting that what I wanted, truly wanted, was…was…

A cheeseburger! But not just any cheeseburger. I wanted the 100% perfect cheeseburger.

Yes, this was the deepest of deep hunger pangs, and my lips lusted for that heavenly, gourmet sandwich. Oh, I could taste it so clearly! There were the buttery buns, slightly crisped on the edges, with a hint of roasted sesame seeds on top. Next came the 8 ounces of barbecued ground chuck, grilled to its succulent, beefy center. Then, toss in two slices of a tomato, leaf lettuce, pickles and Muenster cheese – melted right onto the charred meaty crust, of course.

Add a blend of ketchup, diced onions and minced garlic, and voila, not even a heavy French dish can be as satisfying.

I knew just how I would eat it too – with fingers lightly pressed against the bread, careful to hold everything together without squeezing out bits of ripe tomatoes and savory sauces. But as soon as my teeth sank in for that first bite, the fattiness would trickle down from the steaming patty, infusing itself into a salty, sweet and tangy flavor.

In every scent and touch, this was the 100% perfect cheeseburger for me at two-thirty in the morning. Nothing more, nothing less.

Well, okay, maybe a slice of cheesecake wouldn’t be too bad either.

But did I actually get up to grill a burger or toast the buns? The short answer is no. I simply tossed and twisted some more.

After all, this was only a story about desire.

What are your late-night cravings, and how do you deal with them? 

Footnote: Many thanks to writer Haruki Murakami, whose short stories in The Elephant Vanishes have inspired this post.