We were in the dark

We were in the dark, I sitting, she lying in the relative silence though Glee quietly reminded my ear drums to not stop believing. She sneezed, signaling she was awake. The clock, though recently taken to playing tricks on me and resetting itself to random intervals, spelled out in primary colors that it was after twelve.

I asked how her night was. When she spoke, her voice was tinged with muffled congestion and a sort of weariness. I could relate.

'Boys are stupid.' I fell back on that time-honored response, trying to make her feel a little better.

She agreed.

She's up now, blind drawn, light from outside spilling over her side of the room. I suppose I could follow suit, feel the metal beads under my fingers as I rediscover the window hiding behind the white canvas flap, but for the moment I prefer the artificiality of my computer, lighting my face and arms and hands. The silhouette of the friendship bracelet I've been working on obscures the upper right corner of the screen, a braided and colorful reminder of summers already experienced.

It's quiet now, she's gone, and I rock back and forth in my chair as I breathe and think and wait and simply be.