Sunday 4/09/2006 09:55:00 PM

The bed was on her like a thick leather coat. She squirmed inside it. It squeaking with her every movement. She wanted to be naked, but she couldn't take it off.

Not the sheets. Nor the pillows. Or anything they remembered.

He stared at the ceiling and listened to the song. Every chord punching him in the face.

She'd wiggle and the bed would sing, but he didn't care for that song.

The world was out there. Just as they'd left it. Bleating loud like a sheep cut off from its herd. She knew this, but it would have to be a task for later.

First she had to get him off the bed. So she could get it off of her. Then she'd have to tend to the ceiling. Cleanse his thoughts from it.

Where he'd stare she would look, but never see. Where he'd bleed she would bandage, but never taste the blood.

A cloud conjoined to its rain.

She quickly lashed a tiny braid into her hair and asked him what he thought.

He answered only with a glance in her direction. Passive. She knew. She was certain the bed that wore her was all he could see. That it wasn't clothing anymore. It was skin.

The ceiling's eyes looked down on them not blinking. And for the first time in her life she truly felt naked.


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