Warning: suggestive themes.
You wake up before him—that’s the first mistake.
Lulling morning light tells you to bring the sheets closer, to sink in the cocoon of blankets and let your mind drift off again. The quiet hum of the refrigerator, the faint sounds of traffic during the early morning rush hour, his snoring muffled by the pillow; you could use them all to fall back asleep.
Wait. Your eyes snap open, and you’re sure that you freeze for a second, with your fingers nearly poking holes in the sheets. Snoring?
The bed creaks as you turn. A drop of sweat skates along your skin. The serene twitter of 8 a.m. is kidnapped when your eyes land on purple patchy skin in front of you. In its place, your tongue dries, your throat doesn’t work right (how do you breathe when he’s next to you, right here, right now, asleep and drooling?), and you try to knock your heart off the tightrope it’s suddenly on. Smash your heart off t