I couldn’t sleep. So, what do I do, always, when I can’t sleep? I sit in the corner of the room and watch her sleep. It was too dark to see more than a mound under the sheets. But I could hear her breathing.
I turned and looked at the sash window. It was open a crack, enough to let in the cool night air. The curtains, only half drawn, allow that air to circulate freely. A gentle breeze tugged at the nets, playing with them fretfully. The nets danced with the breeze, as it first sucked them through the crack of the open window, then billowed them back into the room. Like a zephyr dancing the tango on a whim with a chanced upon passer-by.
Night blooms, honeysuckle and lavender washed into the space between the window and bed, caressing the surfaces of all they touched.
I watched and waited, knowing that soon the moon would ascend to take its place on its throne to laud its magnificence through the portal. It would break free from its shackles; those heavy clouds that had threatened rain would pass over unsated and leave the moon to hold court in the bedroom. When the moon cast an aethereal shimmer over her porcelain features I found my patience was finally rewarded.
As usual she had soothed me like no other thing can. I felt the disquiet of my mind ebb from my pores and knew that sleep would soon claim me once more. Time to return to bed.
I went the way I came – through the sash window.
Jack T Canis lives with his family in South Wales, UK. He has been an archaeologist, a self-employed armourer and a qualified person-centred counsellor. He is a carer for his daughter and a part-time writer. Published in: Teleport magazine, Potato Soup journal, Datura, Purple Wall Stories, (Hon. mention), Sledgehammer Lit, & three anthologies, et. al.
Artwork by Danielle Farrington – daniellefarringtonartist.bigcartel.com
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