Through Your Notes

Sunday

Sunday

2.45 a.m.

 I toss around on the bed. I look at the digital clock on my bedside table.

 I can’t sleep. It’s been an hour now.

 I sigh, pushing my blanket aside.

 I head for the living room.

 There you are, sleeping soundlessly on the couch.

 I kneel beside you.

 You frown all of a sudden.

And I wonder what kind of hardships you go through to haunt you in your sleep.

I press my finger between your brows.

 Your face softens at my touch.

 My finger grazes at your eyelids carefully, not to wake you up.

 My fingers caress your cheek.

 You fidget. I pull my hand away.

 My fingers travel down to your jaw.

 My finger grazes the corner of your lips.

 Then, I stop at your lips.

 “Thank you.” I whisper. “Thank you for seeing the pain behind my bright smiles.”

 I lean in.

 No, K. You just met him.

Yes, K. You’re not going to see him anymore.

NO!

YES!

I lean closer and press my lips on your sleeping ones.

And…

  Your eyes flutter open.