She always slept like a rock. Even if she slept lightly, she slept like shale,
lose and shifting under the trusting foot of a climber descending into a cave.
Some nights she slept a pumice sleep, full of airy breath, and sometimes she slept a sleep of sediment, of stratification of dreams. She slept smoothly like polished granite, silicate sparkling in the pale light of night, or she slept soundly like a ruckus of gravel and small rocks scattered by a hurried rubber wheel. Either way, when she fell asleep, she sank like a stone.
Aristotle stated that a heavy rock falls faster than a light one. It took a genius of the stature of Galileo to actually drop two rocks and prove Aristotle wrong.