Nightstars (a rough draft)

I slowly caressed her hair and kissed her shoulder.  I thought what I was going to be leaving behind and it saddened me.  Flicking the lamp switch and repositioning it so it shone against the wall opposite me, the shadows danced away from the burning feel, retiring to deeper darker corers of the moonlight room.  Slowly I pulled my arm out from under her and ever so gently rose from the bed.  Groaning slightly in her sleep she rolled over.  I paused until her rhythmic breathing resumed and I gently pulled off the covers and got out of the bed.  The floorboards creaked with my every foot step, as if they were attempting to side with her, not willing for me to make my escape. "Where you going honey?" a sleepy voice called out in the dark.

I noted a slight tremble in her voice.  Although I couldn't see her, I could picture her brown eyes, filled with tears, with her nervously biting on her bottom lip, waiting to hear the worst.  She was a pessimist beauty.  "Just to the toilet" I replied, not having the heart or the courage to tell her.  Grabbing the door handle I twisted it and walked out into the hallway.

Standing in the bathroom, looking into the mirror, I swore silently at myself, before splashing water in my face and returning to the bedroom.

The lamp's light was still on and I could make out her shape lying in the bed, switching the lamp off, I fell back into the bed and tried to sleep and an all too familiar nudge of an elbow to my ribs told me what to do.  So with a lack of choice, I cuddled into my 'beloved' and after what seemed an eternity, I fell into a dreamless sleep.

Some one once said that it was better to be the more loved partner in a relationship.  I guess that that was me.  Except for the amount she loved me, I loathed her.

The next morning while eating our breakfast, I looked at her with contempt while she waffled on about something or another.  Not listening, I nodded every couple of pauses.  I had learned the art of nodding and agreeing with ever time she paused or stopped talking.  The gaze she now threw in my direction told me I hadn't quite mastered the art completely.  'Sorry honey, didn't sleep too well, last night' attempting to pull out the sympathy card before she had a chance to give out.  It didn't work.