I can feel her breath as it tickles my face, warm and minty. Through the gap in the blinds, a dull light means I can just make out her features. Her eyes are closed, mascara smeared around them that she forgot to take off. Her lips are parted slightly, and her hair has fallen across her face. I slowly lift my hand a tuck the loose strands behind her ear.
The room is still. It is a warm night, not even a breeze wafts through the open window. The sheets are crumpled up at the bottom of the bed, unwanted. She has only a t-shirt and underwear on but her flushed cheeks show she is still too warm. Our legs are tangled together, my arm lying across her body. I don’t dear move in fear of waking her.
A sound issues from between her lips. She rubs her face and lets out a deep breath. I watch her, silently. She does not wake. Letting her hand drop she makes another sound as she returns to her peaceful state.
I cannot tell how much time has passed. Eventually the room begins to cool, and occasionally she stirs, but never wakes. Carefully, I adjust the arm she’s resting on, wiggling my fingers to try to ease the pins and needles. She stirs again, and I hold still, waiting. Still, she does not wake and I gently replace my arm. I don’t really mind the pins and needles after all.
I can see the corners of her mouth twitch as she sleeps. Every now and then it looks as though she were trying to say something, but only muffled sounds escape. As I lie there, I wonder what she is dreaming about.