The woman, the right side of the bed and the promise

I don't recognize the sounds you make when you sleep and I never understood why you always would kick yourself awake. In the morning over coffee there would be stories about your dreams of falling. I would stare out the window and just listen to your words as they fell onto your breakfast plate.

At night, I would watch your eyes flicker from side to side as you went deeper; your tell tale eyelash flutter, the announcement of deep sleep. I would lie there and keep these mental notes and pictures in the back of my mind for a later date. I guess today is the day.

You rarely tossed and turned, that brick stillness of you, your weight on the right side of the bed. I was always on my side, a space between us. I would study the hairs, the moles, the freckles and lines and I would wait for the kick. That sudden jerking motion, the Nestea plunge of dreams that would bring you around again.

You would wake with a start and notice me staring at you. I made you nervous and the distance widened...

....