beanbags

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"there's the big dipper." i point to the sky.

you jump. i thought you saw me walk outside, but it's dark and late (early?) so i guess not. sorry.

i don't know how long you've been out here, but where you were sitting on the couch was cold when i woke up. i thought you were asleep too, but it wouldn't be the first time i was wrong about that.

you nod. "yeah," and you punctuate the barely audible response with a shiver.

i don't know when our hands latched together but i move towards the door and you move with me. you feel so light i'm shocked when you stay grounded and don't go meet the big dipper yourself. to make sure you don't, just to be safe, i open the door and pull you in behind me.

i decide space would be a better home for you than the place you just entered. you belong to the sun or the moon or all of the stars, maybe not this cramped apartment.

but here you are, walking to the couch and pulling me next to you. how did you become so warm so fast? i think i should tell you that you can go home to the cosmos any time you want, but it's very warm and quiet and perfect. so i'll tell you tomorrow.

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