I open my eyes and gaze at you lovingly. I crawl out of bed, take off your shirt, put on my bra, put on my shirt and a pair of shorts, and walk, backwards, until I sit back down in your big sofa and curl myself into a ball.
(more) 'I ought to sleep,' I think. I close my eyes and open them again. Close. Open. 'Perhaps I love him,' I think. I think about the first time we slept together. I think about how, just before that, I stayed silent the first time you told me you loved me. I think about how we made up after our first serious argument. I think about what it was we fought over. I think about how hard my heart was beating after the first time our lips touched. I think about the first time you leaned in to kiss me. I think about how you walked me home after the first time you bought me dinner. I think about how I couldn't stop looking at your hand as it held on tightly to the first cup of coffee that I made for you, shortly after the first time we met, which was when you had walked me home under your umbrella after seeing me running home in the pouring Seattle rain because I had just barely missed the bus. I think about my life before I met you. 'No, no. I don't love him.' I think to myself. I watch you climb out of bed and slowly put on your clothes. You walk, backwards, towards me. You kiss my forehead and walk, backwards, out of your apartment. I hear the rattle of your keys. The familiar warmth fills me as I awaken.
I had just been dreaming about you.(less)
