Black Nightgown

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Everyone knew.

Everyone knows, he murmured to himself. His lips brushed across the white skin of her neck, the soft region between her throat and ear, when he spoke aloud, a whisper, her name. His lips brushed across the delicate strands of hair that trembled with the exhalation of his breath. He breathed in her scent that wasn’t roses but just as sweet. He murmured her name, he couldn’t stop himself, and she shifted in his arms but didn’t wake.

They all knew, but he didn’t care. Not here in this world that he wrapped his arms around and was held by at the same time. A world bound by her scent and their mingled warmth, caught by the tunnelled sheets and the white-tasselled covers. Her breasts encircled by his arm . . .

Outside, in that other world, the streetlamp’s blue merged with the faint shadows of the moon. The thin light slid around the edges of the curtain, made empty shapes of her bedroom dresser and the door that led to the rest of the empty, silent house. She moved in his embrace, eyes closed, her mouth parting slightly, her breath a sigh.

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