Yesterday's News.

He's still up there.

He woke up with the rain outside and her snoring breaths across the room from him. His white-dotted-filled vision wavered as dust motes filtered through the windows. It was raining yet he could discern bright sunlight waiting impatiently outside. Raging impatiently.
-"Good morning", he heard her said as she lifted her head from the small pillow. She slept on the small couch, he on the big one.
-"I thought I dreamt you", he said unsure.
-"You're silly".
-"No, really. I thought you were a figment of my imagination ". She laughed without much movement but eloquently enough for him to realized she was real. Today and last night. And forever on.
-"I'm real enough", she said after she stopped laughing, "I think".
-"Ok".
-"No, really. I am".
-"I believe you".
-"Thanks".
-"You're welcome".

They talked about the night before over coffee. Over toasts and the rising heat outside. Creeping silently inside. To impregnate the skin with sweat and the hair with thoughts of it. Sweat. Sweet.
-"How's the coffee?", he asked diligently.
-"Enlightening ", she said smiling butterflies. Her breath clasped on the warmness from the coffee like the pages of a wet book. Enduring and perpendicularly troublesome.
-"Want another cup?", he said uninspired.
-"Maybe".
-"Maybe not or maybe yes?".
-"Maybe, just maybe".
-"Ok", he said finally, admiring her glare, drinking her stare. Dreaming her dreams unmolested.

-"Did you really see him?".
-"Who?", she said, guarding her feelings inside religiously.
-"Your boyfriend the angel".
-"'Course I did. He was like a shooting star, flying low on the sky".
-"Ok. How'd you know it was a he?".
-"I just know".
-"Truly unbelievable", he joked with a brief smile on his face. Supposed configurations travelled fractured atoms across the quantum space between their stares. Motivated. Tenderly motivated. She broke the stare and finished her coffee.
-"It doesn't really matter, anyways", she said with a soft shriek, encapsulating priorities.
-"Why, though?", he said, enamored with her rabid impatience and rock-hard assurance. As round as Planet Earth. But less fluid.
-"He doesn't care what other people think of him. He's also not a God, so he really doesn't give a flying fuck if people don't believe in him. He just is".
-"Cute".
-"Very funny".
-"He is?".
-"No, he's not".

They finished their coffee and he watched her washed the dishes. She threw backward glances at him, warning him not to get too close.
-"Is that how you do the dishes?", he asked.
-"Why? Is there any other way?", she said, unsure of his tactics.
-"I'm just asking, girl".
-"Well don't ask and help".
-"But you're done".
-"Nope. Not with you". She smiled forlorn comets into existence as she said this. Breathing coffee chips towards his face.
-"He was probably a dream. A shooting dream".
-"Untrue".
-"Well, you don't know that".
-"I do. I mean, he's still up there".