It is nearly light and I have not slept. Pine boughs scrape the windowpanes.

“Stay,” she murmurs when I stir, but the name she whispers is not mine. She drifts in and out, clutching the covers to her chest.

Frost limns the window, and yet I lie here and burn.

2 thoughts on “Insomnia

  1. Imaginings says:

    I love the contrast between the cold weather and the narrator “burning” inside. The tone and flow of words was very fitting for the early morning. I love your use of the quoted “stay” but whispering the details through the following narration. Very compelling read!


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