The house heated up like a furnace in the
summertime but the bed had been so cold without her in it these past few nights that it actually felt good to wake up with
sweat in all the crevices that it will soak itself into
when bodies burn each other up.
I couldn't sleep for a while; I just stayed there, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. She kept asking me
what I was thinking and I was answering honestly when I said, nothing, but she would not let it go.
Tell me, please, but there was nothing really good spinning through my mind, so
I had to tell her a story she had probably heard before. Nonetheless it was a good story that was always worth listening to again, and she did so intently.
Later, my hand found itself
creeping over her belly.
She shivered and I apologized.
No, that's okay. It was just cold. I liked it. Stay here.
I wanted her to know, but I did not want to tell her. I still loved her then and I probably always would.