One day she drunkenly muttered something, and what I thought I heard wasn't pungent, but lovely. And as I felt the blood rushing from my head to my gut I began to wonder; I couldn't muster up the sustenance to utter a comeback, so...
After a second or two of ruminating I negated the ache to move my lips and instead slid to where she was grinning, where she was pinning herself flat against my mattress, placing her chin on a grey pillow, eyes wider than they should have been and pupils kind of dilated, basically aching for a scintillating bit of conversation, praying not to die from the quiet. But I wasn't trying to make it so easy for her, and by the time she opened her mouth to make her case and chase it with an explanation -- maybe even denial -- I was laying adjacent, waist scathing the opaque window; by now I'm sure her mind was running wild...
The verdict was poignant and simple; I moved her shirt a bit and my pointer finger swiftly traced a few straight lines on her lower back in 90 degree angles spelling two letters for her tactile sense to decipher. And after I incited the third, which was a circle, I think she sensed the rest of my message, because right then she began to smile excitedly...
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