I must have fallen asleep, lulled by his strange story. When I
awoke,night was deep all around us. The camp outside our tent was
still, and his pot fire held only a single flickering flame on a wick
in the oil.
I was huddled beneath one of his blankets, fallen over sideways
on his bed. He slept, curled like a kitten, his brow nearly touching
mine, on the other end of his pallet. His breathing was deep and even,
and one long hand was palm up on the blankets between us, as if in
offering, or beseeching something of me.
- Jan 17 Tue 2006 04:18