Saturday Afternoon

After the cool evening last night, the following day has been a delight. The windows and doors are open to the wind, and the lizards, desperate for warmth, get slower and lethargic in the waning sunlight.

It is so easy to daydream at times like these, and so hard to keep the day from disappearing into tomorrow. I can say it is Saturday, and tomorrow will seem like Wednesday, and then another Saturday afternoon, and so on. We dine around 3--our daily rations--and then I spend the next thirty minutes cleaning, and then trying not to settle too deep into sleep, though Gray sleeps his best right after eating.

Speaking of sleep, last night, I slept under their covers, and I don't know if Gray knew I was there or not, but he settled down on the other side of the covers from me, and by morning, the urge to hug--even though we were on separate sides of sheet--was overwhelming. When you share warmth, be it in voice or in body, the connection that is created can sometimes haunt you in pleasant way; I find myself leaning into pillows, against walls, or against people when they are sitting or sleeping, and there's something right about it that can't be undone.

-Black