MORNING GUEST

The chirping of the early morning birds calls me out of my peaceful sleep. I peel my eyes, and they almost impair with a striking, sharp pain as they collide with the savage rays of the morning sun. I shut them for a minute, but when I don’t feel those strong arms around me, I peel them open in a flash, turning around.

Empty space!

That explains why the widow's curtains are open, permeating the savage sunrays. He woke up before me. That has never been him. I always wake up enveloped in his arms every single day of the six months that we have been together. What changed?

Is it because of that question from last night? This marriage issue?

After he asked me that, and after I failed to come up with a straight answer, I just laid my head on his chest and snuggled into his warm embrace. He understood the memo, which meant I was not ready for that kind of conversation. And he respected it, just like he has always done. He pulled me closer and tighter, and we drifted off to sleep.

Did I