Sebastian
Viola is asleep in my arms. First, her breathing slowed, her eyes fluttered closed. Then her body sank into mine, one inch at a time. Her shoulders, her hands, each perfect, delicate finger. So much power this woman has, over the world, over me. It all bleeds out of her, totally calm, as she dozes on my chest. I’m a part of that.
I expect her to wake up, as I shift our weight, but she doesn’t. She just rests her cheek on my chest, over my heart. She’s too good, too bright to sleep on some cold, tiled floor. She lets me lift her, carry her out into the bedroom. She doesn’t wake, doesn’t even disrupt her breathing, as I nestle her down and cover her with blankets. The intimacy of it, the inherent trust, is sobering. I’ve never had anyone to take care of, never dreamed it was poss
