Another.

She takes a bit of drink; racing thoughts collide inside as drunken
epiphanies are wont to do. The moon reaches through the screen of her
window like invisible small flies connected to each other by some
ethereal tissue and penetrates her clothing. Her flesh reacts to the
presence with the same feel she assumes radiation would provoke. A
warm, tired feeling in her spine and arms drives her to lift the glass again,
the pumpkin spiced beer a sensual dance down her throat. The
moonlight caresses her heart, the bloody organ deep within her chest
pumping faster at the touch. She feels her eyes pinch at the slight
adaptation goaded by the knowledge of the full moon. Simplicity abounds
in her as she swallows the light. The urge scratching at her lips produces
an insatiable itch at the corners of her mouth. Inexplicable desires
prance through her head each a malicious little fairy come to taunt her
very stability. She watches the foam run down the empty glass, pure hope
turns the individual bubbles into pixies beckoning for her. With one
revering sigh she closes her eyes and dives in.