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SHE ALWAYS CAME TO me at night, in the dark before midnight or early morning. I would awake with a start, and then she would whisper, "Move over, love." and slide in between the sheets.
It was never more than comfort she gave me, her body close to mine. She'd pull the warm blankets back up and tell me, "It was just the wind, go back to sleep." Or, "Just kicked the covers off, don't worry, you were dreaming too hard."
I didn't know when she started coming to me at night, I never knew her name, nor even the color of her hair - the light didn't reflect off of it or her features, no matter how bright the moon or lamp light. Her silky hair would cascade off her bare shoulders, but never gave a clue about her. Even her scent was something very natural, but very intoxicating at the sam
