Under the bed

He couldn’t remember when he had first noticed, it felt as if she had always been down there somehow, always been with him.

It was always very subtle, almost indistinguishable.

Every sound he made as he shifted in bed and his every breath

Were copied, coming from underneath the bed.

He listened carefully trying to catch the very minute differences.

At first, he thought it was just his imagination.

As usual, we all look under the bed when we suspect there’s something there, and he did just that, and as expected, there was nothing.

He moved the old luggage and a few small boxes from under the bed and cleaned out the settled dust that was clearly untouched for a long time.

Logic told him nothing was there, but more and more often, right before he would drift off to sleep

He would hear her breathe, the breath that matched his precisely in pace and depth.

As time passed he learned to tune into the sound and more and more he heard it.

No not just heard it, he felt it.

He never found it scary, as a matter of fact, it was very comforting and soothing.

There was something distinctly feminine about it. It was more instinctual than anything. For some reason the comfort it cause reminded him of a mother’s embrace.

He would breathe deeply, like a meditation. In through his nose, out through his mouth.

He felt joy as he could feel and hear the breath swell in his lungs and then seep out subtly mirrored from below like a chorus harmony.

Knowing she was there made him comfortable.

There was no one in his life. A single child whose parents had passed. Work obsessed with little interest in the effort involved to date.

Though he was comfortable, he was lonely.

But she changed that. There was someone with him, someone close, someone who might understand him and feel equally comforted just by his presence.

His past loneliness was gone but soon replaced with a longing to meet her.

One night he lay there listening to both their breaths near the edge of the bed.

His body relaxed as consciousness fluttered between wake and sleep and his arm slid to hang from the side of the bed.

Moments later consciousness flooded back as he felt it.

A touch.

Clearly a woman!

It had been a long time since he felt a woman’s hand, but this was a feeling one could never forget.

Her fingers were soft and delicate. First one, then more softly touched his hand.

They were gentle and careful as to try not to wake him.

They explored his hands drifting across the back of his hand, his palm, and his fingers.

His eyes now widened as his emotions flooded into him a turmoil between fear, excitement, and longing.

As her fingers softly touched the palm of his he was careful to remain limp, afraid to move and possibly scare her away.

She placed her palm in his.

His limp fingers could make out the thinness and frailness of her wrist

And he feared she would notice the pounding of his heart as she touched his

She turned her hand such that he was cupping the back of hers

Then her hand slid down until their fingertips met

Slowly her hand slid up beginning to mesh her fingers with his

His heart pounded with excitement and desire and to show the reciprocity of his feelings

As their hands came together, fingers intertwined, palm to palm

He noticed her heartbeat as intensely as his!

He very gently began to tighten his limp grip, just enough to let her know he knew she was there.

Then, it pulled.