"if love is not enough, then what keeps the moon white, what keeps the ocean glistening?" -peter mulvey

the sky cracks its eye open, grey pupil dilating behind flutterlash clouds. the silence feels complete; i suppose i've gotten used to the hum of the city. i think the comforter is on the floor, but i'm warm enough without it. in fact, the intermittant breath of the fan is sweet against my skin.

i know that in a few hours, maybe a few minutes, we will have to get up and get dressed, wander down to the shop for paint call. i know that soon, the world will reassert itself, the yawning sky will brighten and throw itself through the blinds to wake us, that we will spend hours with a fluctuating but constant space between us. i know that soon, the weekend will begin in earnest and that i will lie alone in the coming nights, while he squints at a computer in a lonely office far away.

sleep is the strongest drug i know.