next day
You wake with a pillow under your arm and one on your head in a bed that is not your bed, under a cluster of dried twigs and leaves described the night before as " not death nettles but nettles of good dreams"
The sun angles in through the window low and yellow. Next to you, still, and silent, there is a man that is not yours.
Coffee and oatmeal, you smell these, you hear them brewing and cooking through the open bedroom door.
The room is cool and still, thick with boy breath and smells, the slowly fading thickness of sleep and sleepiness.
The sun angles in through the window low and yellow. Next to you, still, and silent, there is a man that is not yours.
Coffee and oatmeal, you smell these, you hear them brewing and cooking through the open bedroom door.
The room is cool and still, thick with boy breath and smells, the slowly fading thickness of sleep and sleepiness.
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