A Sunday Kind Of Love

Friday

I woke up in my hotel room, covered in endless piles of blankets and a stack of pillows. I was certain I fell asleep outside last night, or maybe it was all a bad dream. 

No, no it wasn't a dream. 

It happened. It's reality.

 My reality. 

I pushed myself out of the waves of blankets covering me and headed for the bathroom, my legs quivering as I was blasted with the icy freshness of the air conditioner. I cupped my hands under the tap of the sink, and slowly squeaked it open, letting the coolness of the water run on top of my hands. I stood there for a while, lost in my thoughts as water filled up the depression created by the palms of my hands. 

I stared at the water for what seemed like hours, although it was only a few minutes.

I just wanted him to come up behind me and wrap his muscular arms over my waist, I longed for this nightmare to be over so that he could be with me, his lips on mine and his fingers tracing my body.

I stared into the mirror, my hands overflowing with water. 

I was in front of him, his dark hair smothering his face, the way his eyes glimmered even through the blackness of his raven hair never failed to amaze me.

He's here.

If I turn around he'll be right there, next to me.

Then we'll have our morning kiss, like usual.

All nightmares end on a happy note,

right?

I threw my hands onto my face, feeling the refreshing splash of water dripping from my chin. I lifted my head towards the mirror, my hands rubbing against my eyes to remove the blurriness. 

The only thing I could see was my miserable reflection, my eyes puffy and reddened, my mouth parched and dry. I could feel my tears forming inside my eyes, slowly slithering down my cheeks, its saltiness staining my lips.