She can hear him breathing heavily next to her. His legs are tangled around her own cold, bare legs. The room is pitch black with only streams of city lights leaking in through the curtains. She can hear the hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen even with the door closed. All the noises seem to blend into a soft symphony of the night; it plays through the night as she stares at the ceiling. She closes her eyes real tight and sees waves of yellows, blues and greens—the comforting colours of the sea. She opens her eyes and turns her head slowly, careful not to wake him. She notices that he has rolled onto his side. She can see the silhouette of his body; his head is pressed against the pillow, his collarbone is exaggerated by shadows highlight the curvature of them. Slowly, she nudges a little closer to get a better look at his face. Everything looks so different in the dark; she feels like she is in a silent black and white film. She studies him closely. His bone structure had never looked so strong and prominent in colour; his eyelashes look so much longer as they flutter gently; his mouth is closed, as if afraid of spilling his most inner thoughts. They are sealed and his lips crack under the pressure of all his secrets. She rolls around onto her back and envisions the sea.
She lets out a small sigh.