Between the cold sheets, I sling my arms around your warm body. I place my chin upon your head and you slumber into my embrace. Outside, the rain begins to fall and we watch its quiet scene with patience.
It is four in the afternoon; a few more minutes before five, six, seven until twelve. With grace, the fears fill up the spaces of my head. I tighten my hold on your fading soul; I want to wrap you in a euphoric cloud of galaxies and lock you in our universe, but the northern star has already stolen you before we had us. Upon my broken arms, your tears swim.
Let us live in the minutes instead of trying to ignore it, dear, because tomorrow, we know, it will not be the same again.
WORD COUNT: 134
Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.