Afterwards we didn't say anything,
she just stroked the hair on my chest while
I stroked the back of her neck. Slipping
in and out of sleep, I offered my dead
arm as comfort. It was cherished. Favour
returned via the gentlest inspection
of my forearm and tummy by her fingers.
They curl about my wrist,
not making it the whole way
round. She's playing for time.
I wish she could stay, but I forget to mention
this in between "cheers'' and "see ya".
One of my favourites from the issue!