Everything is okay. Her short nails grazing along each strain of my hair is enough to make me want to fall asleep. Everything about her feels right. Her perfume has mostly faded after a long day with me, but the scent is more comforting than anything else in the entire world. My mind flashes back to prom, when we told my parents that we were going “as friends.” That’s where the smell takes me. Other times, the smell takes me back to my first kiss with her, when time seemed to shatter and my stomach felt like a glove for a little frantic demon inside of me. It’s nostalgic and makes me miss her, even though she’s right next to me.
I’m drifting between being awake and being asleep. When I open my eyes, she’s looking down at me, only she doesn’t seem as unstrained as me. She’s turned the TV volume down. The sun has gone down, making the room completely red with my LED lights that have been tacked up along the ceiling.
“May,” she whispers flatly, the words cutting through the silence like a gunshot. Her voice is cracked and dry. The words seem like they are struggling to escape her throat. Something immediately seems to shatter the serenity.
“Yeah?” I say back, barely having the strength to open my eyes.
“Can we talk?” She asks without any hint of emotion. Something inside of me drops. In situations like this, it’s usually nothing important, but her saying stuff like that always makes me anxious. It’s usually related to an insecurity or something stupidly minor that I end up laughing about, questioning why I was even worried to begin with. This time, something actually feels horribly wrong. Suddenly, I’m thrown out of my comfort zone.