end of the evening . . . showered and a close shave . . .
(I got used to shaving just before bed . . . when I was human)
. . . the feeling of settling in bed, under the covers . . . the weight of the sheet and quilt, a comforter if its cool enough and the way the pillow seems to fit just into the right spot . . . there’s the coolness that hits your eyes when the light is turned out, the air seems a bit clearer . . .
and then, let out a breath . . . and listen . . .
(a few hours before . . . I got up . . . checked my email, opened my schedule, focused the mental pictures . . . the jobsite, the people and what the finished work would look like . . . reaching for coffee and socks . . . jeans . . . and my gym bag . . . the rest of the day, beginning, picking up, a bit of momentum . . .)
and then, let out a breath . . . and listen . . .
(missing the sweet fragrance of sex and scent, the trace of perfume and lotion . . . warm breath directing me to a kiss in the dark and a sweet sweet whisper . . . fingertips and a silent ‘yes’ . . . or even just a kiss goodnight, but the tender curve tucked against my chest . . . taking my arm and tucking it around . . . sharing the pillow . . . and a promise of an intimate early morning . . . that time for us will stand still . . . but for now, rest)
and listen . . . and still you’re not there . . .
G.
P.S. . . . one more day . . .
music
. 
