she wakes up and finds herself in an unfamiliar bed in a familiar town.
the walls of the room are sky blue, freshly painted.
the paint fumes are still lingering, infused in the new carpeting.
she rolls over on to her side and feels the distinct pain of a new tattoo on her ribcage.
she peels the onion layers of sheets away from his face.
he's breathing through his mouth again, sidestepping the congestion he's been feeling despite the fact that the cat has been kept out of this room for weeks.
it's sunny again.
the weather channel had said that the entire week would be bleak and grey.
it was wrong.
the weather channel is often wrong.
she realizes this now.
his eyelashes fan across his cheekbones and his eyebrows don't furrow when he's in deep sleep.
she moves a little closer.
his arm immediately repositions itself and slides under her neck without missing a beat.
he sighs.
she rests her face against his neck and breathes in deeply.
she wants to remember this feeling.
she doesn't know when she'll have the chance to feel it again.
his scruff rubs up against the bridge of her nose.
she's careful not to blink too much, afraid that her eyelashes grazing his ear will wake him up.
his arm wraps around her.
his finger tips push against her back in alternating pulses.
she likes to pretend that he's playing a song on an imaginary piano.
maybe a song just for her.
maybe not.
she rests her hand on his stomach.
in this room, with its sunlight and cold air, she begins to recall the beginning.
her mind rests momentarily on the endless reassurances and warmth she had felt.
she remembers the looks, the excitements, all the joys of just standing still with him on a new york city sidewalk on a humid summer night with no solid plans.
the feeling of being content to just exist in the same space as him lingered.
one tear at a time.
that's all that was left after a few nights of revelations.
one tear languidly slides down her cheek.
suddenly, in his sleep, he grabs her hand and places it on his chest.
he rests his hand on top of hers and continues to slumber.
her chest trembles as she closes her eyes.
right now, this is what she wants to remember.
this gesture.
the two of them lay close, wrapped in sheets, in a bed in new jersey on a cold winter day with no solid plans.
7 hours later he's gone.
she drives the car along the highway back from the airport.
her eyes are stinging.
one tear at a time.
she checks her phone.
there's a message from a co-worker...
happy new year!!! hope you two started the year with lots of snuggling!
she writes out a response...
happy new year. we basically broke up.
she looks at it for a second.
she decides not to send it.
she erases the message and puts the phone down.
she continues to drive.
for a minute, the tears come in droves.
they refuse to stop...
and then they do.
in the evening, she lays in bed and puts her own hand on her chest.
she rests the other hand on top of it.
one tear rolls down her cheek.
she is in a large bed in new jersey on a cold winter night with no solid plans.
she recalls his warm hand on her neck and the way he smiles.
she falls asleep.
