250 words is harder than it looks.  

 

It was very late. Not until he was alone in his room, the lamp turned low, did he give in to the luxury of letting his shoulder droop.

Fumbling with the clasp on his belt he finally got the buckle undone and the put the gun and holster on the chair.  He should go to bed, he knew he should, but at this moment he was just too tired.  With jerky movements he pulled his shirt loose from his trousers and opened the buttons, feeling the air on his skin.

Walking to the window, he pushed back the curtains and stared into the moonlit yard.  There was something about the night, the black and white of it, which made the world seem ordered. A breeze came up from the pond, bringing with it the sound of frogs and the smell of summer grass and lilacs; the smell of home.

He moved to the bed, over-tired and restless, but knowing it was no use, he'd never sleep. He pushed back the comforter and sat on the sheet.  He loved the feel of clean sheets, something he never took for granted. It took all his energy to pull off his boots and set them on the floor. It was so frustrating, he knew he'd never get to sleep, and he'd just toss and turn until dawn came. Why bother getting undressed, he'd just have dress again in a few hours anyway. He didn't feel himself lean back or slip off to sleep.