Early Sunday Morning

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I slept with Kyra last night.  

Not in that way.  In the way that we both laid down together in his bed, cuddle up together, and went to sleep together.  

We slept together, we didn't get funky.

Kyra woke me gently, early, early on Sunday morning, slowly pulling me back from slumber, brushing his lips over mine as he murmured my name.

It was dark, but not the deep dark of the night. It was the kind of dark where the first hint of the sun was playing by the edge of the earth, where it would soon peak over the horizon to warm and wake the world.

"Come with me."

I rubbed my eyes, struggling to focus, but let him help me to my feet, and I followed him from the shed, slipping my feet into my shoes along the way to protect them from the gravel. He walked over it in bare feet, not seeming to notice if the rocks bit into his skin.

He had a blanket bundled in his arms, and I skipped to keep up with him as he lead me to the car and drove us the short distance to the beach.

The first rays of light were washing the sky in an ethereal glow, setting it alight, pink and purple shades painting the clouds in gentle pastels.

I was sitting in the sand next to Kyra, watching the sky, the breeze stirring my hair and raising goosebumps on my arms. I snuggled up to him a little more, and he tightened his hold on me, pulling the blanket around us a little closer against the chill. I laid my head on his shoulder, my eyelids growing heavy, and I felt him rest his cheek against my hair.

The waves lapped at the sand, the slap of water the only sound around us for miles. Even the birds hadn't woken, yet.

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