Goodnight.

She sleeps against the wall with one arm around her stomach so as to pretend, if only a moment, that he is holding her; that she isn't alone again tonight. With the other hand, she clutches the sheets or the edge of the pillow beneath her head. Moments such as these are fleeting, you understand, and it is necessary to anchor oneself so as not to be taken with the current of debilitating loneliness that always follows feigned fulfillment.

The more solid her physical grip, the less crippling her emotional distress. Just hold on. This too shall pass.

--BêëMåri3