Matthew
Celeste takes the day of the strike off, which just so happens to align with my one of now two days off—on top of decreased pay, they increased my hours. When Celeste and I wake up in the morning, having spent the evening together unencumbered by homework or designated bedtimes, we look at each other and smile. We lay in bed naked, having done some more cardio last night, and she scoots over so her head is on my chest. I play with her matted nest of blonde hair, amazed by how it manages to be soft despite its tangles.
"Good morning, beautiful," I greet.
"Good morning," she cranes her head to stare up at me. Gray ambiance pours in from the window—not a blade of sunlight to be seen today—but her eyes glitter nonetheless. "Did you sleep well?"
"I did. Did you?"
"I had a weird d
