My eyes close slowly, and I snap them open again quickly once I realise – but she has noticed.

“You’re falling asleep.” She says with a hint of a smirk.

“No I’m not,” I don’t look at her. That’s always my tell. I forget she knows these things about me.

We continue watching the screen, my eyelids feel like they weigh a tonne.

I know she’s looking at me, keeping a laugh on the edges of her lips.

“Just go to sleep, you’re tired.” She says with such affection. She is so genuine. That’s how I feel about her. So honest, so pure.

“But, I want to stay awake, here, with you.” I get worried.

She studies me; eyes, nose, ears, hair, chin. Tilting her head softly to the side she gives a little sigh.

“We never have enough time. We waste it on silly things.” I’m so tired I let this get to me.

“It’s never silly.” She says. Always with such reassuring knowledge. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

She doesn’t understand. Tomorrow’s not today. Later isn’t now.

My eyelids flutter again; the hardest thing is to fight sleep when you are warm and content.

“Just a nap.” I clarify. She nods.

But when I wake up, she’s gone. And my bones ache with the absence of her.