A naked man and a naked woman lay in his bed on a Sunday morning sometime a while ago. He’s awake, didn’t sleep so well. He never does when there’s someone else in his bed. She’s sound asleep and had been for hours. When he started tracing his fingers along her back, she couldn’t keep her eyes open. She didn’t know that he was tracing the shapes of sea creatures and she wouldn’t have minded anyways. She liked it when men ran their fingers along her skin. He had nice fingers and a delicate way of going about it. He was unaware of this, thinking of squids and sharks and sea stars and admiring her dark brown hair against her pale skin. He didn’t realize that she had fallen asleep until he whispered something into her ear. There was a period of time after this attempted remark, which had something to do with his eyes having fully adjusted to the pitch-black of his room, that he might’ve slept for a short time. He wasn’t sure of this though, only sure that he was awake to watch the sunrise.
After a long while of trying to position himself in such a way that he couldn’t feel the tugging of her body against the blanket, he conceded, matching his breath to hers, in and out. He found her sleeping breath to be steadier, more assuring than the jagged, anxious breath of her wakeful self. It gave him something to focus on until the air-conditioner twitched on and settled into a soft grumble. He gently shook her and offered her some eggs because he didn’t know what else to do. She mumbled that she wanted two and buried her face back into the pillow. She was awake enough, though, to watch him as he stood up, reached into a drawer of neatly folded underwear, and put a pair on.
A little while later she heard music playing that she enjoyed but didn’t altogether recognize.
“What is this?”
“Oh, hey,” he smiled. “Eggs. Over easy. They’re almost done. Do you want some coffee?”
“Do you have any Earl Grey?”
He told her that she looked a lot like Natalie Wood as he put a plate of eggs next to her tea and sat down.
“I think I’ve heard that before. She was an actress, right?”
“Yeah. In the fifties. I’ve never actually seen her work. When I was a kid, I got this magazine that looked back at stars who died young. I remember looking at her picture a lot. I thought she was really beautiful.”
“Oh yeah?” She smiled.
“Yeah, I was kind of obsessed for a while—”
“But you never watched her movies?”
“I was only eleven. I liked the look of her for some reason. I don’t know. I still like brunettes. Maybe that’s why.”
She smirked. “Well, I can assure you, I am not Natalie Wood.”
“Too bad.” He shook his head.
“These eggs are really goddamned delicious, man.”
For a second, she sounded like she did the night before.
After a long while of trying to position himself in such a way that he couldn’t feel the tugging of her body against the blanket, he conceded, matching his breath to hers, in and out. He found her sleeping breath to be steadier, more assuring than the jagged, anxious breath of her wakeful self. It gave him something to focus on until the air-conditioner twitched on and settled into a soft grumble. He gently shook her and offered her some eggs because he didn’t know what else to do. She mumbled that she wanted two and buried her face back into the pillow. She was awake enough, though, to watch him as he stood up, reached into a drawer of neatly folded underwear, and put a pair on.
A little while later she heard music playing that she enjoyed but didn’t altogether recognize.
“What is this?”
“Oh, hey,” he smiled. “Eggs. Over easy. They’re almost done. Do you want some coffee?”
“Do you have any Earl Grey?”
He told her that she looked a lot like Natalie Wood as he put a plate of eggs next to her tea and sat down.
“I think I’ve heard that before. She was an actress, right?”
“Yeah. In the fifties. I’ve never actually seen her work. When I was a kid, I got this magazine that looked back at stars who died young. I remember looking at her picture a lot. I thought she was really beautiful.”
“Oh yeah?” She smiled.
“Yeah, I was kind of obsessed for a while—”
“But you never watched her movies?”
“I was only eleven. I liked the look of her for some reason. I don’t know. I still like brunettes. Maybe that’s why.”
She smirked. “Well, I can assure you, I am not Natalie Wood.”
“Too bad.” He shook his head.
“These eggs are really goddamned delicious, man.”
For a second, she sounded like she did the night before.
