We were sitting on a bridge, he and I. Well, not exactly on the bridge. More under it. But not on the sidewalk. We'd climbed onto the supports and were sitting perched over the people who jogged and strolled below. One arm of mine was resting on his neck, the other pressed against where I sat, legs dangling down across the walkway. Him with his head against my shoulder, legs locked around a pole in case I moved. He leaned on me, eyes closed, as I watched the world, the swans on the water, the couple on the grass where they played like children. Felt his hair on my neck and the heat of his body against mine.

When the others came there were raised eyebrows, as he refused to move and I refused to ask him to.

Are you two..? Um. Uh. Are you?

And when he left I followed him to stand in the rain waiting for him to leave.

You know, all too soon, the bus will come and...

Yes, I know. You'll be swept away. The last hug is never the best because Time, she is a cruel mistress, and she looms up large when I wish I could have just a few seconds longer. But you'd already missed your train and the other bus. I couldn't allow you to miss this one.

It was a very bad sleep. I could not get comfortable. I could not arrange myself amongst the sheets or against the pillows so that I could relax. It was too hot with covers and too cold without. I rose to let the cat out, and then in, each time having to readjust myself to a bed without a sleeping being curled at the end. The curtains whipped the bookshelf with the ferocity of the wind. It was a very bad sleep.

After seeing you a smile lingers on my lips and despite the rest of everything people say that I am beautiful, they ask what good thoughts I am thinking. I feel relaxed, and I can lie down feeling rested yet exhausted. Comfortable happy tired.

And I hate saying goodbye because it is always the same. I hug you and you hold me tight, and my fingers scrape at your back. One time a girl was walking past, her face astounded at us, two people, absolutely touching. And then I will say into your shoulder, you have to go, but our grip barely relaxes, until I have to push you away. Go, go, you have to go. Or you push me away because it is time, and disappear back to your world, so far away.

And nothing's the same as feeling your head against my shoulder, to hear your soft breathing under the sound of the wind. And I am left to wonder if you are the reason I cannot sleep soundly alone.

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