I stayed at home last night, my apartment home. I came back from hanging out with a friend and ice cream cones, and sat down to fiddle with my computer for a bit. Then I got ready for bed as normal.
While brushing my teeth I started thinking about Mor Dun from Brave. Way to go, brain. So then I had to check the house for a giant evil bear.
I settled into bed with my phone and my work knife (well it was tucked up under the pillow. I wasn’t holding it all night), stretched and went to bed.
The room felt empty without Patrick’s breathing. The warm breeze animated ghostly curtains. The bed felt vast, even as I stretched diagonally across it. It was colder than normal, or maybe it was just my imagination, but the blankets seemed ineffectual to my chills.
The fears and shadows merged into weird shapes that looked like faces, but as my eyes adjusted to the semi-dark that is Toronto nighttime, I became less and less aware of my vulnerable loneness, and more and more the air felt vacuous, wistfully aching of absence.