Starlight

Prologue

I glance at the alarm clock on the table next to me, squinting at the bright red analog numbers. It's 2:17 AM. I should be asleep. I should be snuggled up under the covers, dreaming away. But I can't sleep. No matter how hard I try. I've tried counting in my head, as high as I could go. I got to 374 before I finally accepted that it wasn't working. I've tried counting sheep. I've even tried every sleeping position I could think of, including the stupid one with one leg under the covers and one leg out on top, like you're straddling a horse. I have one more idea. It sounds dumb, but I saw it on social media once, and I'm so desperate that I'll try anything. I start blinking really fast until my eyelids get tired and have to stay closed, which works for about 5 minutes until my retinas sense the flash of light on my phone through my eyelids. I groan and reach over to my phone, charging on the nightstand, to check what had so rudely interrupted my journey into unconsciousness. It's a spam email with the subject line "NEW OIL 11 INCH PENIS." Great. Guess if I can't sleep, I might as well have an eleven inch penis. In my frustration, I slam my phone back down on the nightstand, and huff as I lay back down and stare back at the ceiling fan. I've studied it thousands of times tonight. My tired eyes trace each of the five blades. Three of them have cracks which run down the edge to the center motor. One of them is chipped on the side, the remnants of a projectile pen, originally tossed across the room in a playful manner, but resulting in an out of pocket payment to the landlord. Two ugly, brown tassels hang down from the fan. Both are covered in dust. The fan hasn't been used. Not once. Sometimes I even forget it's there. As I stare at the ugly brown turbine on the ceiling, I reach out my hand, tracing it with my mind. The line that follows my finger is thick, and has gaps every 2 inches or so. Like I was cutting out the fan in photoshop to remove it. As my hand traces around and around and around the fan, I unconsciously begin to hum. Just softly to myself, so quiet that no one should be able to hear it.

But, apparently, someone does.

The body next to me stirs. I stop humming. I notice his closeness to me, something that's taken a back burner in my thoughts to the fact that I haven't been able to sleep all this time. His arms are out, reaching for me in his sleep. One of his hands rests on my ribcage, just beneath the bottom of my breast. My shirt is folded around the hand, pushing the crease right underneath the point where my chest turns to breast tissue. I notice how it sort of uncomfortably scrapes against the tender skin, but I don't make an effort to move it. His other hand is entangled in my hair. His thumb rests at the nape of my neck, ever so slightly pressing a knot that has resided there for at least a week. A reminder I need to schedule a massage. However, I don't turn away from his hand. In fact, I can't turn to fully face him without crushing his palm with my head, so I turn as far as I can go and watch him through the corner of my eye. His lips have the slightest upturning in the corners, and his forehead is uncreased. His eyelashes are still, gently lying against his cheeks. The slight flare of his nostrils matches the soft rising and falling of his chest. I reach out and gently press a hand against his heart. It beats sleepily but steadily, a reminder of all that I have.

Another soft rise and fall stirs at my feet. The light padding of paws on the comforter gets closer and closer to me until it's right on my belly. The cat glances down at me for a moment, then flops over onto her side, releasing a soft purr. I slide her off my stomach into the small gap between myself and the body next to me, letting my fingers gently slide through her fur.

Maybe I can't sleep because I'm waiting for something terrible to happen. I just can't seem to accept that everything is fine. Everything is great even. Everything is just perfect.

I cuddle closer to the man next to me. He wraps his arms farther around me. I rest my head on his chest, anxious to hear his heartbeat once again, knowing that once I hear it, I'll be reminded that everything is perfect. That I have everything I could ever want. But before I do, I glance back at the alarm clock.

It's 2:18 AM.