*Blake*
It seems she is once again sleeping in my bed, kind off and not as comfortably as I am willing to make it for her. She is sitting in a chair, bent at the waist, her face resting on the mattress near my hip, one hand tucked up beneath her cheek, the other curled around my wrist as though she seeks to keep check the continual beating of my pulse.
The shadows filtering through the room, the solitary lit lamp, indicates it is still night. And there is a stillness to the residence that only comes when the sun bids farewell to day. How long have I been wandering through the maze of healing?
I remember experiencing bouts of delirium and the suffocating sense of being wrapped tightly in a shroud. Her voice was always near to calm my erratic heart. Her fingers caressed and cooled my heated
