Lia

The house was asleep — or at least feigning sleep. Because my body certainly couldn't.

Perhaps an excuse. Or maybe just the longing to be close to him without any further pretenses.

Or perhaps, just perhaps, I already knew he wasn't asleep either.

And indeed, he wasn't.

"Still up?" I asked, noticing him leaning against the balcony wall, cell phone in hand, a half-smoked cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

Relaxed. Too striking to overlook.

"I couldn't fall ...