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She wakes up next to him, hand on his back. One small pale square she has created on the wide expanse, a space she claims as hers, hers at least until he wakes up and rolls over and dislodges her.
She watches sunlight creep across the floor, watches it intrude, sneak onto blue sheets, watches it breech the private little world she's created. Watches it land on him, take him, gild him and make him something greater, something more than she can ever be or understand.
Everyone and no one is trying to take him. She gets to have him for this time.
Her hand starts to move.
Seriously. Soft rock? Uck. But good for writing. I hate myself.
