Feelings I Don't Know How to Say Otherwise. - 8. Sleep

There is a silence that begs to be filled when I turn around to face the distant wall. The air in my lungs thickens and my throat struggles to keep the breaths even. So I roll over to stare across the room at yet another distant wall. The skin stretched taut across my ribcage starts to prickle, as if in anticipation. For a second, I imagine hands sliding across them. I reach over to remind myself that you’re not here, to touch disappointment. I check because I cannot lean back one more time, to give into the nothing that lay behind me. I roll over once more, and press my back into the sheets, the firm mattress keeping me in place. I stare at the ceiling, trying to bring to mind your firm chest against my shoulder blades, hairs tickling my spine, your breath washing up against the ridge of my ear as I relax into you.

I look over at the red digits: 00:00. It’s been five days. When are you coming home?