Remembering - Story

I'm staring at the ceiling of my room, the only sound is my own breath and the patter of the rain into the pebbles beneath the overhanging roof. This is one of the few days that my alarm won't be going off. But I've still woken early, before the first paling of the sky announces dawn's approach. I try to roll onto my side to fall back asleep, but my mind has started its ticking and won't relent. It has begun its battle with my heart. For every reason my mind holds for me to examine, my heart finds an excuse, or a lie, that it tells me to disregard it. It won't, it can't, let go. Why not? Maybe it's because I've been holding on for so long I don't know how to let go. Maybe it's just because I remember...

It's another morning, long ago. I had fallen asleep to the rain, but it stopped sometime during the night. I take shallow breaths, trying hard not to wake her. I can hear her long, drawn out breathing telling me she won't wake for some time. Beyond her the curtains are blowing gently in the wind. She had me open the windows a crack before coming to bed so we could listen for thunder. The sun is rising now. Her body beneath the covers silhouetted against the golden light. Loose strands of her pale hair stick up and catch a ray or two as my gaze follows the gentle curves of her head, her shoulder, her hip.. I want to reach out and touch her, but I know that if I do it will startle her from her rest. I still want to. I want to start our day together. I want to start our life together. I catch myself reaching out to her, and roll away carefully, trying to shut out the selfish temptation. I close my eyes, breathe through my nose. The sheets still smell of her wet hair. She didn't let it dry before coming to bed last night. It smells good. It smells like her. I smile. Content. Happy.

I'm on my back again. Hands behind my head. I don't remember rolling again, or lifting my arms, but there I am. Staring at the ceiling, listening to the rain. Alone. My chest aches. I can hear the thrum of my blood fighting its way through my veins. A tear slips down my cheek, seeking the fibers of my pillow.