I want him to tell me he loves me, but he doesn’t say the words and I don’t ruin the moment by asking. Minutes stretch out around us, the light dims, the sun sinks low in the sky, the lawnmower in the distance grows irregular and faint and then cuts off completely, its job done. But the hammock keeps its slight motion and Coby keeps his arm around me. I feel him beneath me, hear his steady breath, smell his summery scent. I tell myself this doesn’t have to end.
If only I could make this real.
* * * *
The first thing I’m aware of when I know I’m awake is the fact that I’m alone. Coby’s arms are gone. I fell asleep with him wrapped protectively around me but it’s cold now, even with the afghan pulled up to my shoulders. I don’t like this.