I open my eyes to the predawn darkness, a hint of grey kissing the sky where the sun will rise. Even as I watch, considering the events of the previous day, the grey shades out to opal then molten gold.
And she’s there, next to me, Michael beyond her, both sleeping. Her long red hair, contrasting against his blond, flame on gold, sprawls over the two of them, scattered over his shoulders and spine.
She’s in her usual sleeping position; on her side, one pale arm curved upwards on the pillow, her breasts a soft rise-and-fall under the sheets.
I position myself to watch her….
…. and now she knows….
Eyes closed, her lashes are oddly dark, much more so than the rest of her hair. Not for the first time, I wonder if it is natural or if she gives nature a little help.
Her eyelids flutter op
