My hand limply dangled outside the bed after having failed to find Abby. It will never cease to amaze me how she can always find the energy to leave the bed early even after we spent so much time lovemaking or talking into the night. There had been none of the former, only the latter, but still, it was more impressive today than any other time because after we were done talking, we still spent a long time holding each other unable to sleep. The feeling of my hand dangling in and of itself was a somewhat pleasant feeling, so I didn’t let her absences get me too down. I still would have preferred finding her by my side and pulling her in for some snuggling, but there’s a simplistic pleasure of feeling lazy and letting a part of you being outside of bed. It’s a kind of middle finger to the world, I suppose. “Technically, I’m already out of bed, so screw you”. Something like that. Yet again I say “still”, because Abby’s softness and tender presence was starting to be sorely missed as I became more and more aware of the discomfort brought by my cramps and memories of last night’s shared words. I was feeling awfully emotional about it all too, my eyes feeling like they wanted to let out some tears. It hurt, but not that much, at least when compared to yesterday.


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