One sandy couch worn with elbow indents; two stained mugs forgotten on the dusty, glass coffee table; three potted plants besides the windowsill, draped in sheer, tan curtains.

It was home to four, and she was the fifth, a guest.

No matter. Home was in his six feet being. Infinity, was in his arms.

Pg 8



It was one of the hottest days of the summer – cloudless skies admitting the sun’s full rays. But the curtains were down and the blinds were drawn, and she laid sprawled out in the cool room. Inch by inch, she felt her body numb. A wave of drowsiness hit her, and her eyes drooped from what felt like heavy stones tugging at the corners.

But no matter how well she covered the windows or how tightly she closed her eyes, nothing could compare to the immovable darkness that started from the pit of her stomach, swelling into the currents of her mind.

pg 7