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February 25, 2008
Five oíclock finds my left hand sandy-numb beneath the pillow, my right hand clasped with yours and curled between my breasts. Purring kitten draped across my ankle. Your stuttering eyelashes fluttering at the back of my neck.

Outside, a storm is stamping across the bay. Within our nest, all is garnet velvet, gossamer curtains and warm yawns.

My skin cringes where Iíve peeled it from yours, like a snail pulled from its shady brick. Your silver chain, your Saint Chistopher medal branded pink into my back.

Sleepy kitten stretches and tumbles into the space Iíve left between your arms.