Through the open window, she watched the rain clouds in their static glory. The bus meant to take her home swished past. She pulled the crumpled sheet away from her body, letting the evening breeze caress the bare skin of her back.
‘I should close the window,’ he said.
A nosy fly buzzed into the room, took three turns under the ceiling, went quiet. She figured it had found its way back into the real world.
‘Not yet,’ she said and pressed a hand to his heart.
‘Why not?’
‘So I don’t forget,’ she whispered. ‘Even though I want to.’
‘I should close the window,’ he said.
A nosy fly buzzed into the room, took three turns under the ceiling, went quiet. She figured it had found its way back into the real world.
‘Not yet,’ she said and pressed a hand to his heart.
‘Why not?’
‘So I don’t forget,’ she whispered. ‘Even though I want to.’
