...skating away/on the thin ice of a new day...
I unclip my hair and watch him come apart.
"I had no idea," he stammers, before becoming completely incoherent.
I laugh, stop suddenly. He's serious. And unsuccessful in his attempt to not stare.
Vaguely ashamed, as though I'd inadvertently flashed a good friend, I sweep the wildness into a bundle of messy repression, making some smartass (or perhaps asinine) quip.
The phrase "naked longing" lodges in my gut.
**************************************
"Do you want your side back?"
"Not necessarily. Will you not be able to sleep on that side?"
"I sleep in a real bed so rarely, nothing bothers me. I thought it would bother you."
"Actually, it's kind of a novelty to be on this side of you."
Still, when he returned from the bathroom, it was "his" side he climbed into.
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