Perhaps I will write about it or perhaps I won’t.
I should be asleep right now, but I’m not. Usually when there’s someone sleeping in my bed, I can fall right off to sleep with a speed that is amazing to my usually alone-sleeping self, but not tonight.
Bez sleeps beside me, on her back, one hand palm up on the pillow, the other resting against my belly somewhere beneath the blanket. Bez, whose real name is Elizabeth, a name to which she refuses to answer for reasons that I am not going to explain. Bez is my oldest friend in this city, and there are times when she needs my company more than she can describe, which is just fine, since there are times that I feel the same for her.
Sometimes our needs overlap, and she stays with me, or I with her, for however many days it takes until we achieve a mutual equilibrium and things go back to normal. It’s a good system that works well for us.
Contrary to how it might appear, we aren’t lovers.
Tonight, however, I did kiss her.
And she kissed back.
In the light of day, perhaps I will be less terrified of what we did tonight.
In the light of day, perhaps we can laugh it off and blame it on the wine.
Perhaps I will delete this post or perhaps I won’t.
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