“I’LL SIT ON MY BED IN THE DARK WITH MY WINDOW WIDE OPEN AT 3AM AND WATCH THE PEOPLE IN THE WINDOWS OF THE FLATS ACROSS FROM ME. THERE’S THIS ASIAN GIRL WHO KEEPS ALL HER DAIRY PRODUCTS ON THE WINDOWSILL AND I CAN SEE THE MOSQUE AND THE STARS.”
Felted air, brushed elbows and sunken warmth are in heavy reverie. All of us together, wrapped in a cape of dreams, lightly enveloped between one another’s unconcerned teaspoon curves. Someone turns away, scrunching the cover between their knees, one eye swaps to the other side, an arm flops. A limp form rests its head next to my right shoulder. Their bodies undisclosed, and now when I open my eyes and come to, my joints stiff, I readjust, shuffle my legs an inch or two, slide my shoulder back, swap to lying on my front, stretch my right arm above my head and place the other arm between my folded knees. I enjoy the stretch. My head is heavy but comfortably sunk in the pillow; I lift it for one last quick check to see who else is there and let it fall back. Morning light enters the room in wisps, the milky curtains shine.