“The morning had begun badly. He paced about the room. He felt he was suffocating. The air moved in from the window, fresh and clean… but he could not breathe all the same. His bedsheets and covers were confused and tangled – he had caught his foot as he got up, nearly falling like an idiot on the floor
She was not there.
He had dreamed she was. He had dreamed a waking dream – Musette lay, encased in pyjamas – shy as always – he had wanted to hold her naked body against his – not for sex – but just to feel his skin against hers, and hers against his, sending sparkles of life and truth into his tired self, directly from her soft beauty. He had dreamed. She had felt real against his hardness. She breathed evenly, still sleeping, muttering something in her own dream he could not quite catch – but had lightly stroked him, a smile of pleasure appearing quickly, then gone, from her sleeping face.
Then he woke and the bed was empty. He said ‘fuck’ and knew that the word was empty. He had to get out of the bed, but caught his foot and stumbled – then laughed at[…]”
Excerpt From: “Sky Man Nov 21, 2016.” iBooks.