Life as an Extreme Sport


I rub the sleep out of my eyes and look around, blearily. It’s a bit chilly in here, and I tuck the blanket close around my feet. It’s the first night I’ve been home in four nights, five days. It’s nice; it would be nicer if he was here, if I was there.

I smell him in my hair, I taste him on my lips. I happily wait to see him again.