I have to pee
I fold down the covers
move one foot to the floor
It's cold
I retreat
Undercovers
Sleep frees me
From the complaints of my bladder
Until
I'm thirsty
I reach for my water bottle
Goosebumps attack my exposed arm
It's empty
I retreat
Undercovers
Sleep soothes me
I'm unaware of my dry throat
Until
I'm hungry
Someone is awake
Making something that smells good
Something warm
I retreat
Undercovers
Sleep won't come
But it's still so nice here in bed
About the Creator
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Apple
I'll pick up an apple off the ground; with time I can turn it into vinegar. Sweetly smelling and pungent, sugars broken down—ready to aid my daily life, but there are some things it won't be able to fix. Though the process of making something new, waiting for the fermentation to finish, patience through the journey to take care of something that I will bottle with my own hands, is enough to make it seem like everything is where it needs to be. Control is something I gain—simply by picking up an apple before the worms get to it first.
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She flings her arms around my neck and squeezes me like she’s never going to let me go. My head spins as her lips brush against my cheek. She must be able to feel my heart thumping in my chest. I shuffle backwards and ram my hands into my coat pockets, watching her reach down and heave the rucksack across her shoulders.
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