3 a.m. and she’s still awake, lying in the dark, in the too big bed, listening to the sighing hum of her own breath.
It’s about this time of night that he would shift, half-awake and seeking, bring their thighs to meet, brush sleep-purposeful fingers against her belly. The hair on his chest would tickle between her shoulder blades and his breath would burn the back of her neck.
It took years to get used to.
It will take more for her body to forget.
And the incalculably cool space on his side of the bed gnaws at her spine.
This is for Velvet Verbosity's 100 Word Challenge. I stumbled on it today and thought I'd give it a shot... It was especially tempting as I'm currently editing/QAing for the day-job and my poor brain needed a break from the technical side of things.