One Morning
The young woman is curled up and facing the wall. She murmurs in her sleep, at times seeming to sing softly. The young man lies on his back on the edge of the bed. His hands are behind his head. He is staring at the pockmarked ceiling, awake for maybe hours.
The young woman has stolen his blanket and most of his bed. The young man is unbothered. He is not tired, and her warm presence is comforting. He has watched the black dissolve away. But the Sun is still to show its weary face. The young man has resolved to venture outside to greet the dawn.
He turns to his companion, inhaling her familiar scent. Stroking away her hair, he kisses her once on the back of her neck. She sings for a moment. He steps gently out of the bed and reaches into the heap of clothes on the stool.
He gets dressed and leaves.
Dawn can be disorientating. Sound vanishes down empty streets – countless ears deaf in slumber. Sleeping bodies hidden – we sense their dreams drift outside and onwards. The cold is weak. It bites the skin but spares the bones. Adam’s lungs are open.
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