I woke up to quiet snores and when I rolled onto my side, I saw him. His loose brown curls splayed in all directions and his bare chest slowly rose and fell with each slow breath. His long legs poked out from under the worn, thin blanket. He had the face of a child; his long eyelashes fluttered as he began to stir out of his drunken stupor. We smiled and broke the early morning silence with quiet conversation. He pulled the blanket, which he unintentionally took more of, and draped it over my bare midriff. He placed his arm around my waist and pulled me closer as we continued to share stories. And as we whispered to each other, he gently tickled my lower back. The longer we talked, the easier it became to forget his age. And that’s when it all happened.
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