I’m awake but only just. Rain raps the window behind my headboard, a brigade of staccato notes, harsh and random. No birds chatter outside; it’s too cold to socialize. The sky that I can see through my blinds is flat and scrubbed clean like a chalkboard. To my left, my boyfriend snores. Well, he breathes deeply through his nose which then churns at the back of his throat into a sort of groan. To my right, my cat purrs, loud as a motorboat. Usually I’m finicky about noise. I can’t fall back asleep unless it’s dead quiet. But this morning, under this bleach bone sky, I wrap myself in the snores and purrs because they are like love—warm and automatic.
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