Written by Jaywalker

She’s trying to put on some eye-liner. But the smudges! Oh the smudges!

It’s not like she was any good at it ever- but that’s one of the things Tim likes- well, she doesn’t know if he does anymore, but he liked first about her. All the clumsiness she hated about herself, Tim absolutely adored those. So of course she is happy with the smudgy dark lines around her eyes- besides it made her look mysterious, he used to say.

“Used to”.

The sigh that leaves her chest surprises her the most. She didn’t know she’d miss being adored, but she does and by God she hates herself for it! She likes the strength that lies in not caring much. Maybe a tad bit, but never too much.

He should’ve been home by now. She is starting to worry- he didn’t have much for breakfast, and she couldn’t get up fast enough to see if he got his brekkie right. He’s no baby- he knows how to look after himself, but there are days when he just doesn’t bother anymore. She worries for those days.

She does just that. She worries.

And she worries. And worries.

And does nothing else.

She’s been having these insomniac episodes again- for the last week. She has to lay awake on the bed, staring at the six fluorescent stars- one of them too big, two in medium and other two are in rather small size-and watch them dim down as the sun rises up. And then she gets one hour of sleep, some days not even that.

Last night, while counting those six stars for God-knows-how-many-times, she turned a bit sideways, unwittingly of course since the bed creaks a bit louder than decent when she turns too hard and saw Timmy’s face.

Something fluttered inside her. She thought those stupid flying insects died with the other one in her tummy two years ago, but apparently they’re zombie material- they come back and eat your insides. She really, really wanted to touch the bridge of his nose- its so beautiful, it looked almost sculpted- but then she noticed how deep asleep he was, and how deeper the raven’s claw had gone around his eyes.

So she didn’t wake him up.

Instead, she watched him. She looked at his long lashes almost touching his cheeks, with his eyeballs moving rapidly under the lids- why men are always gifted with such fancy lashes, she won’t ever understand. She stared at his brows, matted to the place, the underlying brown showing in the dim light. His forehead- big, but not in an aged way, more like the way the beach bends down to the unyielding sea. She couldn’t think of another forehead suiting this man better. And that little, precise cupid’s bow just under his nose.

Then she noticed his locks. His brownish dark locks were everywhere on the pillow. Those zombies fluttered inside her again and she wanted nothing more than just to take a little whiff of his hair.

She couldn’t remember the last time she ever noticed anything so clearly, apart from those six stars above their head. The intensity of the situation was starting to get on her nerve. He’s too beautiful. He’s too precious.

He’s too much to ask for a girl like her.

The panic started to build on her chest and grow up to her head.

Then happened the only thing that could ever calm her down.

The warm, summer breeze came in and he shifted on his place, moved a little bit closer.

But that’s not it.

It was when the smell of his hair came rushing to her, it’s like when the friend you haven’t hugged for too long shows up and doesn’t let go till you start wanting some air and still holds you some more.

That was the last thing she remembers before falling asleep.

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