Of Snow and Blankets
Mazes, fighting, claws, running
I pull myself across the ocean of empty bed between us and slip beneath his blanket, dragging his dead hand across my body. His instinctive reaction is to pull away, but he stretches a little to cover it up. I tug his arm back around me, murmuring into his warmth that I had a nightmare, and he is instantly in protector mode, wrapping me up in comfort.
“Roll over and I’ll hold you,” he says in a voice thick with sleep. I sit up to arrange my pillow. Tendrils of nightmare fall away from me and litter my bed. “Look,” I point. Through the slice of open window I see white. Snow always excites me; happiness like a child when it’s even in the forecast. He smiles a little, pulling me down into place. “I know,” he says, and I slide down to lay against him, my pillow nestled in the crook of his arm. He is asleep again instantly, comfortable and happy to have me in his arms.
And I forget just what it was I was dreaming about.
At the Library
We’re walking out of the library; I’d had to send a fax. It’s a gorgeous afternoon, and we’re so rarely outside during the day now. I’m walking about two steps ahead of him – I always am, because he always opens doors for me.
There’s a girl walking past us; I don’t pay much attention to her, except that when Eric quickens his step to catch up with me and starts to lean in to say something, I think he’s going to talk about her.
She’s really not that cute. Not enough to catch his attention, I think.
He leans closer to me, almost close enough to whisper except it’s hard to whisper when you’re walking, and we’re still walking to the car. His voice is low, though; it’s a secret.
“You have a really cute butt,” he says, and takes an affectionate swipe at me.
“She has a really cute butt,” I think I hear, but only for a second. I start to laugh and grab his hand, even though we’re at the car and it’s keeping him from going to the drivers’ side.
“I love you,” I say, and I mean it.
