short story
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It’s dark and quiet in the room. The lights are turned down low. Your family has left. It’s just me left. Just me, and you, and your quiet slow breaths. I pull a stool up beside your bed and wrap my hand around yours. I could leave. Your family has. Apparently at peace with what
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I peel back the covers and pull my eyelids open, feeling the absolute silence that surrounds me. It creeps in and fills my bones the second I wake every single morning. I used to run from it, filling this room with music, sounds of the sea, rain, old news, or just anything to keep the
I Would Rather Be In Bed 