Young People's Pride by Stephen Vincent Benet

Half-past five in the morning and Oliver undressing wearily by the light of a pale pink dawn.

Now and then he looks at his bed with a gloating expression that almost reaches the proportions of a lust -- he is so tired he can hardly get off his clothes. The affairs of the last twenty-four hours mix in his mind like a jumble of colored postcards, all loose and disconnected and brightly unreal. Ted -- Elinor -- Mrs. Severance -- Mr. Piper -- the dance he has just left -- sleep -- oh -- sleep!