We lie in bed, still making spoons. I love to make spoons. I snuggle deeper under the down comforter. Sigh happily. My eyes would rather be shut lest the light pierce my eyes and burn my retina. Still we spoon. Sunrise couldn't tempt us if it tried. I'm afraid to hum, because it might wake him. If he wakes things will not go so well. Things will be less than green, not very green at all. Perhaps yellow. He will leave. He will get out of bed and leave. Off to a different world. It boggles the mind how he can switch so quickly. I might cry. I try to still myself, my mind, my thoughts.
They are so loud in my head. How he can sleep through such a racket, I haven't the foggiest. His arm snakes around my middle, pulling me closer. He's dreaming. Perhaps about her. Who is she? Is she pretty? Prettier than I am, sure. Sure. I will let him dream. Just for a little bit longer. Go off and be with those men; those low men. I shake my head just thinking about it. My hair brushes his face. I freeze, realized my movement. He blinks, twice, and releases his hold. Relinquishes me to what?