Fourteen Across

Coyote couldn’t sleep. He rolled over. Flipped his pillow. Kicked a foot out of the blankets. Clamped his eyes shut. Focused on his breathing. And still nothing, so he decided that was it, he’d get up and finally run off to be a hobo.

An hour later, he’d settled back into listlessness, content with lukewarm coffee and the crossword puzzle. One of the answers ended up being “lacks arias” and he thought that profound. And a little too close to the way he felt. He’d have to do something. And he’d get right on it, after a quick mid-morning nap.

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