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Wednesday, January 01, 2014

When the Morning Came


The world looked the same out through her window. At least, that's what I thought at the time. I glanced back, watching her sleeping; spread across her bed, arms spread wide.

I smiled and looked around for what clothes of mine I could find. When we'd got to the bedroom, there wasn't much for either of us to take off. I picked up what I could find and crept out, so not to disturb her.

The landing in the small cottage was narrow and gloomy. I saw my shirt draped over the banister where it had landed when she'd pulled it from me. I picked it up and carried on down the stairs.

About half an hour later, I was dressed and ready.

I didn't know, though, whether I was ready to stay, or to leave. In the past I have done both at one time or another, and regretted doing – or not doing – both.

I thought again about the way she slept, throwing herself across the bed as though she was riding it through some wild dream like a raft tumbling over rapids.

I hesitated, my hand on her doorknob and turned to see her standing naked at the foot of her stairs, watching me.

'Well,' she said. 'Are you going or staying?'

I shrugged, letting my hand fall from the door handle. 'What do you want for breakfast?' I said.

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