It was nice to have him sleeping beside me once again, even if we were separated by the center console.
"898 miles to destination" chanted the GPS. I loathed the voice that had been so welcome 7 days ago. Not for all the usual reasons, but because this time it meant the end. Perhaps not final, but uncertain.
"It's difficult with old friends; difficult because it's so easy. You know one another as well as lovers do and you have had less to pretend about." I asked him all my questions. All of them. No holds barred. Closer now than we were then. Isn't that strange.
Even so, we're just a shell. "People collect shells, don't they?" You did. You gave me one before we were we, I treasured it and kept it safe, just as I do now.
"And from the ballroom floor we are in celebration, one good stretch before our hibernation. Our dreams assured, and we all will sleep well... sleep well."
He held me. There's a litte life left in us yet
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