a beginning

Nestled in a fort of pillows I'd constructed over the course of the evening, it was time to go home. Two in the morning and a long drive back to Dallas, where the couch I'd claimed as a bed waited for me. I didn't want to leave, to be alone and driving late at night. You'd turned out the light while I stalled and talked, my mouth pouring out words like it does when I'm nervous. I was nervous.

Darkness makes it easier to talk. In a room with no windows late at night, it is the easiest thing to talk. I hardly remember what I said to you. The words were just an excuse to stay. Swapping stories, the night passed so quickly, so much spoken but with so much left to say. You touched my arm and it was electric; such a small gesture and my inhibitions and worry gave way to comfort... and longing.

All the words had run dry while the sun rose and a sliver of light began making its way to our unadjusted eyes, and I found myself lost in your arms.