Through my hazy state between awake and asleep, I feel him climb in next to me. The heat from his body immediately comforts me; I snuggle closer. For three hours his absence has left me restless, but now I am finally able to relax. His arm, slightly lifting my top, slides under my back. I peak down at his hand, curled around my waist, and sigh in contentment. I wish that for once it could still be there when morning arrives, when I am more awake. Yet every time the sun inches high enough to cast bright beams through my window, waking me, he is gone. The next day is no exception. An overwhelming brightness flashes behind my closed eyelids and stirs me. The emptiness on the sheets next to me engulfs any chance that it was real this time.
The next night when he climbs under the covers, I shift my head so that it lies on his chest. Its gentle rise and fall reassures me that he has returned again, and that he hasn’t left me yet. He brushes his lips against my forehead. The kiss lingers there long after he draws away. As I slowly sink into a deep sleep, I feel his words tickle my ear, but am far enough gone that I can’t quite catch what he says.
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